Double Take
by Partners In Crimes
Summary: The 'noir' vision of Babylon 5 returns in this collaboration fic. Susan's attempt to contact the First Ones takes an unexpected turn and the station plays host to some strange and strangely familiar guests.
1. Welcome To The Machine

**Disclaimer:** J M Straczynski, Babylonian Productions ™ and Warner Productions ™ own the rights to all of the characters and places contained in this story.

**Authors' Note:** This is a collaboration fic from **vjs2259** and **Laurie M**, writing under the joint name of **Partners In Crimes**. It is a first for both of us. We've taken the _noir_ characters from _The Deep Sleep_ and _Body and Soul_ and had some fun with them - and what follows only makes sense (albeit slightly) if you have read those stories. Set Season Three, post _Walkabout_.

Reviews, comments and constructive criticism most welcome.

* * *

**Babylon 5**

**Double Take**

**By**

**Partners In Crimes**

* * *

**ooOoo**

**Welcome to the Machine**

**ooOoo**

'You are unfocussed,' Draal's voice boomed sternly, echoing around the caverns. 'You must learn to discipline that mind of yours.'

'I'm trying. This isn't exactly easy.' Susan gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the drops of perspiration rolling down her back. Each time she went into the Great Machine she swore it would be the last time – but here she was again.

'Easy? No. But I find it most invigorating.'

'You would,' she murmured.

'I heard that.'

In spite of herself, Susan smiled slightly. Draal was infuriating but she had an affection for the opinionated Minbari – she could understand Delenn's devotion to him. She shifted position as much as she was able, trying to find a way of standing that didn't involve a bit of machinery poking into her. The Machine's embrace had moulded itself to Draal's form – and his seemed to be the opposite of hers in every way. As far as Susan could tell, Draal stuck out where she went in and vice-versa.

' "Why don't you try contacting the First Ones again, Susan?" "We need all the help we can get, Susan." I'd like to see _him_ get plugged in down here,' she muttered. She took back the last statement immediately: if John Sheridan ever got himself into the Great Machine, nothing short of Delenn doing a striptease just beyond his reach would coax him back out again.

'I don't know how you can do this all the time,' she said after a while.

Draal watched the young woman with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. She was one of the more interesting of the station's Humans, he thought. And she was a bringer of chaos – perhaps that was why she had chosen the disciplined path of the military, he reflected, to curb it. He liked that duality in her. If he had been some cycles younger and a little less Minbari... He shook himself. Draal leaned against a smooth projection of rock and became aware of the tiredness in his body; his limbs felt sluggish, heavy. The Machine had rejuvenated him, made him stronger, it was true; but whenever he was separated from its heart physically he could still feel the pull of his years. And he missed the synthesis of his mind with the wonder that was the Machine.

'The Machine is an unlimited source of fascination,' he told Susan. 'A year can pass as quickly as a second – and a second can last the span of a Minbari lifetime. Which is considerably longer than yours.'

Great, reminders of mortality, she thought, that was all she needed.

Draal folded his arms across his chest; his voice lowered as he spoke again, caressing the words, as he told some of the tales of the Great Machine. 'Did you know, Commander, that the Machine can show all possibilities? All the possibilities that have ever been and all the ones that could ever be? Alternatives, if you will. Did you know that there is another existence where the greatest force in the galaxy is Zathras and his people?' He paused, shuddering at the memory. 'It is a chaotic if relatively happy place.'

Susan listened to the words, absorbing them. Like a child being told a night-time story. She became less aware of discomfort, less aware of her physical being. Draal's voice was floating on a sea of countless others.

'All the alternate pasts that we may have had,' he said softly. 'That is extraordinary, is it not? All the beings that we once have been.'

That would be nice, Susan thought vaguely. An alternate past. Almost like a past life – like that dream that Garibaldi had had when he'd been knocked out a few weeks before. His other-self as a shady shamus... It would be nice to have a simpler life like that. Something interesting but not life-threatening. One that didn't include gearing up for a war that could very well end in all of them being annihilated. The war. The First Ones. She was supposed to be looking for the First Ones. But all those voices were still whispering and it would be so nice, just for once, to see something pleasant. To see that once a life of hers could have been simple, easy, fun...

The voices resolved themselves into a steady thrum and over it all a high-pitched cry that pierced through everything yelled, 'Extra! Extra! Read all about it!'

A kid with ginger hair sticking out from under a cap two sizes too big for him waved a newspaper under her nose and marched down the street.

A street.

Susan caught her breath. It was like watching something unfold from inside a bubble. People wandered past her, all dressed in clothing that looked like something from out of an old news vid. Men in sharp suits and hats and those things around their necks – ties? Ties. And the women... Susan stared at them. Elaborate hairstyles, dresses hugging their figures, high-heels that sent their hips swinging. She felt underdressed by comparison. She looked along the street, watched in fascination as huge automobiles trundled along. And over them loomed a tall spire that she recognised as the old Chrysler Building. The one that wasn't there anymore.

The voices crowded in again, pulling at her mind; one was stronger than all the others and she obeyed it helplessly. Part of her told to resist – the bigger part of her didn't want to. She floated through, images rushing past like film played at high speed until she stopped, suddenly, blinked against the brilliance of red, late-evening sunlight coming through a venetian blind and watched a young woman with a wave of tawny hair stand up from a desk.

Susan knew that face. Her own face. Her other self smoothed down the red dress she was wearing, pulled a sheet of paper from some contraption on the desk and added it to a pile of others in her hand, then moved towards a door. She opened it without knocking, walked in and Susan followed her.

'Hey, there's our girl,' a familiar voice said cheerfully. It was followed by an excited bark and the patter of feet.

'Archie, don't!'

'Give it up, plaything, I don't think he speaks Manhattanese.'

Susan felt her chest constrict as she looked at them. Two men and another woman arranged around the room. A man she knew as Michael Garibaldi was sitting with his feet up on a desk and his hands behind his head; John Sheridan was behind another and a woman who looked an awful lot like a certain Minbari ambassador of Susan's acquaintance was perched on the edge of his desk, delivering a severe lecture to a small dog the same colour grey as the furs around her shoulders.

The Susan-in-Red took a few steps into the room then stopped, turned suddenly and looked directly at the doorway. Her cheeks paled visibly and the papers fell from her hands.

'Susan?' Garibaldi unlinked his hands. 'What? What is it?'

'Can't you see her?'

'See who?'

'Her.' The girl in the red dress glanced into the office then back at the insubstantial figure hovering in the doorway. 'Her! She's right there. What the-'

The woman who wasn't Delenn slipped off the desk, put her hands on her friend's shoulders. The dog trotted forward, its teeth suddenly baring. It growled, low in its chest.

'Quiet, Archie.'

Susan couldn't breath. She saw her own face staring back at her, fearful; sensed the movement of the other people in the cramped office as they moved towards her. Everything was moving towards her, rushing inwards and her head was throbbing, pounding, and she couldn't get out.

Draal had been watching Susan's face, had seen the sudden draining of colour. And he felt the stirrings of the Machine – even when out of it, he could always feel it. The constant steady pulse of the machinery deep in the heart of the planet had quickened. The lights brightened as an energy surge flooded through the core of the Machine.

It had been barely seconds but it had already been too long. Draal started towards the figure of Susan Ivanova, her skin glowing with a light of its own.

'Zathras,' he called. 'Zathras!'

The lights flared brighter and then died.

ooOoo

It was as though someone had said, 'Let there be light,' and some giant cosmic hand had obeyed. Archie was in my arms, trying to burrow as far into my wrap as possible and I couldn't blame him. I felt like finding a large rock and hiding under it myself. I decided that attempting to work out what had happened was pointless for two reasons: first, I couldn't quite remember what _had_ happened; and second: where I found myself was enough to distract me from any type of other thoughts at all.

One moment - of this much I was certain - I had been in the office that my husband shares with his partner, Mike; the next, I was standing in the middle of something that seemed to owe its design features to Fritz Lang. And _Metropolis _was never one of my favourite films. There was the constant hum of machinery, like one of the manufacturing plants that I have occasion to walk around when I do my duties by Ramir Industries (stock holders love that sort of thing, for some reason) and I reasoned that I was in a factory although I could not imagine what it was that they made.

I was also distracted somewhat by the fact that I was standing on a bridge that spanned a cavern and the way down looked uncomfortably long to say the least. There was firm land on the opposite side and a doorway cut into rock. Apart from the towering structures of light, everything seemed to be rock. And there were shadows and something moved in them. I caught my breath. Archie continued his attempt at pot-holing me and whined.

'A fine guard dog you are,' I murmured.

The something moving in the shadows emerged into the light, turned its head, looked at me and sucked its teeth thoughtfully.

'Ah! Ah. Not the one.'

I stared at it. 'Not the one what?'

It shook its head emphatically. 'Not The One!'

It said it with capital letters. I say 'it' because I have no other word. The being addressing me (and informing me of what I wasn't) looked a little like a man and a lot like a rat. And I don't mean what John or Mike would term a rat, I mean an actual member of the rodent family.

It clicked its teeth at me again. 'Come. Yes, yes, you come.' It scuttled through the doorway and as my options appeared to be limited in the extreme, I followed. The passage I was taken down was still walled with rock and if it had not been for the lighting fixtures set at regular intervals I could have believed that we were in old catacombs. That was not a cheering thought. I followed the sound of scuttling feet and clicking teeth all the way into another chamber whereupon my guide vanished as easily as he had appeared and I found a man standing with his back to me. He must have heard me enter - he turned and looked at me and then stared.

I stared back. Not the most polite behaviour but I couldn't help it. He was a thick-set man, bald and wearing a strange head-dress that curved around his head and stood up in points. Well, it made a change from a toupé, I suppose. He had a wide, rather humorous face and he looked like my butler. At least, the way I remember Drahl looking when I was a child.

He looked me over and I would have thought it a liberty except that there was nothing lecherous in his gaze. It was slow and thoughtful. He looked slightly shocked; when he had first faced me I felt as though he had recognised me - and then not recognised me. Rather the way that I had felt about him. Archie's head emerged and that penetrating gaze was transferred to that furry bundle of mischief and then finally returned to me.

'You are not Delenn.'

Well I could have told him that. I kept my head held high and hoped that I looked more in control than I felt. My father had always told me never to give anyone an excuse to talk about you and it is something that I always try to keep in mind. (He told my sister the same thing, but I don't think that Maya was listening.)

'No, I am not Delenn,' I said. 'I'm also not, apparently, The One. And for the record, I'm not a Girl Guide or Miss Montana, nineteen-forty-six, either.'

He tilted his head back, looked at me down his eyes. 'Who are you?'

I was starting to feel mildly annoyed.

'Who am I? Where am I? is more the question. How did I get here? And while we're at it, who are you?'

He took a breath so deep that his chest swelled up enough that it looked as though it would burst. He extended his arms. 'I am Draal of the Minbari Religious Caste, keeper of the Great Machine of Epsilon Three. Welcome.'

My throat had gone dry. I moistened my lips. He looked vaguely disappointed.

'Did you understand?'

I nodded. 'Your name is Draal, this place is Epsilon.'

'Three,' he intoned.

'Three.' I repeated in my head his greeting. I had never heard of a Minbari before. 'Religious Caste, you said? Are you a priest?'

'Not as such.'

Not as such - but he was Jesuitical in his declarations, nonetheless. 'Is- is this a factory? What are you making?'

He took another breath and I worried for his lung capacity. 'This is the home of the Great Machine! Factory...'

Oh. That cleared that one up. I finally managed to move my eyes from Drah- Forgive me, _Draal_, and looked behind him. Machinery took up most of the wall and there was a woman in the middle of it, her arms outstretched, her head lolling forwards. She seemed to be unconscious and it seemed as though she was being left there; the sight of her drove any other concern from my head. 'What are you doing? Trying to crucify her? Get her down from there!'

I released Archie and all but ran to the girl. I heard Draal behind me. 'We were about to remove her when you ... appeared.' He sounded concerned, I have to give him that.

There were straps holding her arms in place; between us we loosened them and her dead weight fell forward. I staggered as we lowered her, ended up on the floor and pulled her head onto my lap.

'Here - bring my purse, would you?'

'Purse.' Draal repeated the word.

I pointed to where I had dropped it onto the ground. 'Yes, my purse. There. Hurry!'

I turned the girl until I could see her face and felt my stomach contract. Susan Ivanova. She had been the last person I had seen before ... _it _... happened. My purse was handed to me.

'Is she all right?'

'I don't know.'

'I am afraid that I can give you no further physical assistance.' He stepped away from us, placed himself in the machinery from which we had just rescued Susan and leaned back with a contented smile. He closed his eyes. There was a rich gleam of gold in the air in front of me and Draal appeared again. I looked between the two versions of the same man and reminded myself that there are no such things as ghosts. Moreover, there are certainly no such things as ghosts when the apparent spirit belongs to someone who is demonstrably still alive.

'I am sorry I cannot help you with her. The heart of the Machine must be occupied and as I am its keeper that duty is mine. This is a holographic representation of my body, and I cannot touch her.'

'Happens to me all the time,' I said and felt like an idiot. I concentrated on Susan instead. In my purse was a small bottle of heavy glass. I removed the stopper and waved it under her nose. (I have never needed to use the smelling salts for myself, but I have found them very useful on occasions such as these. Well, not _quite_ such as these.) For a moment there was nothing and then, to my immense relief, she began to stir. I put the bottle away and wiped her face with my handkerchief; she was soaked - even her hair was wet. Archie had wandered over and helped proceedings by giving Susan an encouraging lick on the cheek.

Her eyelashes fluttered and I said her name softly. She looked at me and I smiled. Archie wagged his tail, evidently pleased that his efforts towards her recovery had proved successful. Draal watched us and peered at Susan, frowning.

'Commander, are you all right?'

As my husband would put it, I decided to skip that one and save it for later.

'I'm okay.' Her voice was a little slurred. Susan looked at me and I smiled at her. She watched me for a moment, blinked, closed her eyes and then stared at me again, almost as though she were hoping that when she looked back I wouldn't be there.

'Delenn?' She shook her head. 'You're not Delenn. Who are you? What the hell is going on?'

'Language, Susan! There's no reason to curse.' Well, that wasn't entirely true but there are still things that a lady doesn't do in company. 'Besides I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing in that outfit? Did you slip out and join the WAVES when I wasn't paying attention?'

I helped her to sit up and she put one hand at the back of her head, wincing slightly; the poor girl looked as though she had a dreadful headache. She looked over at Draal. 'I'm in trouble, aren't I?'

Draal had moved away from us: he was squatting on the floor, attempting to engage Archie in conversation. He broke off and glanced at Susan. 'I expect so. It always seems to happen when you link into the Machine.' He added censuriously, and with more than a little envy, 'It never happens when I do.' His next question was addressed to me: 'What language does your companion speak? I have tried the Human language, the three Minbari languages, Centauri, Narn, Drazi, and Interlac. What kind of alien is it?'

I couldn't help it. Mild hysteria had been building for sometime and this was all it took to tip me over. I started to laugh. 'He's a schnauzer, not an alien! A schnauzer,' I repeated. 'A mutt. I mean a hound. A dog.' Honestly, I was going to kill Mike Garibaldi for his terminology. I got myself under control, dabbed my eyes with the handkerchief that I had used on Susan. It was already soaked from being applied to her face, so was hardly up to a new task but it was all I had.

'A dog,' Draal repeated and examined Archie thoughtfully. The little beast reared up on his hind legs and growled deep in his chest, bobbing his front paws up and down. It was one of his party tricks and he was looking for a treat. I thought that he should be so lucky. 'I have heard of such creatures. They are, I believe, the closest companions for Humans?'

'Yes. You say that as though you aren't Human.'

'I am not.'

'You're not.'

'I am Minbari.'

Wonderful. I felt another wave of hysteria and bit it back. It was a dream. Soon I would wake up and this would be over and I would be home; there would be no more of this insanity, no more people who looked as though they belonged to me, more or less, but did not. It was a dream. But I had a horrible, pernicious feeling that it was not. I finished with my handkerchief, folded it away into my purse and looked at Susan critically. I had seen her look strained before, but not like this. The girl who was looking back at me seemed ... harder. There was a rigidity about her I had never seen before; her face was thinner; she was looked older. 'You're not our Susan Ivanova, are you? Is- Is Susan Ivanova even your name?'

She nodded. 'Yes. Yes, it is.' Her eyes wandered over my face again. 'What's your name?'

'Della.' I felt it best to keep it simple and I was not sure why. Sometimes, however, it is best to go with your instincts.

Susan stood up, quickly and with that sort of smooth movement that people have when they are very active by nature. She looked down at me, extended a hand and pulled me to my feet with a little more force than was absolutely necessary.

'I suppose that Epsilon Three isn't in New York City? No, I didn't think so. I'm somewhere else, somewhere foreign….' And I was alone, I realised - far later than I should have - and I hadn't been before. I thought of John and the absence of him, the lack of him at my side, brought a feeling like a cold finger lain upon my heart. 'Where are the others? Where is my husband?'

'Husband?' Susan asked weakly, as though she were anticipating a response and dreading it.

'Yes; his name is John Sheridan.'

She flinched.

'He was standing right next to me. Is he here too?' It was a stupid question. If John had been anywhere nearby I would have known about it by then. I paused for a moment and tried to push down the knot that had formed in my chest. I looked at Susan uncertainly and asked softly, 'How do I get home?'

If they had suggested a pair of ruby slippers and clicking my heels three times, I would have jumped at it.

Susan rolled her eyes heavenward and addressed a patch of ceiling. 'Why me, God? Why?'

Draal looked up from the dog and said, amused, 'The universe seems to use you in this manner frequently, does it not?'

Archie seemed disconcerted by Draal; he could see him all right, and hear him, but as Draal was no longer quite as substantial as he had been at their initial meeting, I suppose that there was no longer an associated scent. Even so, Archie sniffed at him hopefully and when he had no luck he attempted to snap at Draal. His teeth passed clear through the vision. He whimpered, backed away and then flung himself at me, scrabbling at my legs until I picked him up before he took the fronts out of my stockings. I held onto him and his rough tongue licked my neck; his furry little body was warm and solid and I felt as though he were the only thing that I had left in the world apart from my purse. I gripped both of them.

'You can send me home, can't you?'

Susan looked at Draal. He made a rumbling sound and folded his arms across his chest. It didn't look good.

To borrow one of Mike's favourite locutions, nuts.

_TBC_


	2. A Most Unusual Day

**ooOoo**

**A Most Unusual Day**

**ooOoo**

I would be the first to admit that I have been in some screwy situations - and I would go into some detail to give you the idea, but they aren't the sort of stories that you should really tell in mixed company so just use your own imaginations. But out of all of that, nothing has ever come close to what was happening right then. It was like waking up with the mother of all hangovers but without the actual hangover. I had been walking, mainly because I was too scared to stop, but finally brought my feet to a standstill and had me a good look around.

The best I can do is say that I was in a marketplace. There were stalls. There was produce on the stalls and it looked like said produce was not only up for sale, it was actually being bought. So far, so good. The customers were another story. Maybe they were gearing up for a fancy-dress shindig. Maybe it had become Hallowe'en and I hadn't noticed. There was no other reason that I kept walking past things that looked like they'd stepped out of the pages of a Marvel comic.

There were some other pretty wild things going on - like the fact that every now and then someone would march past me and greet me by name. Not that I minded much. They called me 'Mister Garibaldi' and sounded like they meant it. I had street cred without even trying and in my book that's a beaut. But I was also starting to get claustrophobic. There were endless repeating corridors and they all looked the same. And they all had that grubby-air smell that you get in police station houses and I'd spent plenty of years in those joints, so you can take my word for it.

So far, everything was a corridor - some big, some small - apart from when I'd taken yet another wrong turn (or maybe it was a right one, who knows?) and found myself looking at an expanse of grass that looked like someone had dropped Central Park down in the middle of a subway tunnel. The place had a fountain and a maze. Not that I was against somewhere nice and leafy and tree-like but we looked to be underground and grass doesn't belong underground. Whoever the city planner in charge of the place was needed a talking to.

So, I'd hoofed it out of there and landed back where I'd started in the middle of the marketplace and this time I noticed that it had a big neon sign stuck up that said, 'Zocalo'. The only one of them that I know of is in Mexico City and five would get you ten that where I was then was nowhere down old Mexico way. Which was pity because I could have done with a slug of tequila right about then. But when it comes to things like that a resourceful guy like me can usually find what he's looking for and in this particular case I was helped along by the fact that whatever else was up with this place, they had no shortage of bars. I took a look around and decided on one that looked about right for someone like me (not too fussy but no bum, either) and installed myself on a stool. The liquor in the bottles on the shelves came in every known colour in the world - and probably a few unknown ones, too. The girl behind the bar sidled over and beamed at me. She was a little blonde number with her hair all piled up and a few pieces loose around her face. Nice deep violet eyes of the sort a guy can go swimming in. I pushed my hat back on my head and grinned at her; she tilted her head and smiled back and I got that warm, fuzzy feeling all the way down to my toes.

'Mr Garibaldi! We don't see you here all that often.'

The warm fuzzy feeling turned a bit cooler and pointy.

'No, I, uh, guess not.'

She rested her hands on the bar and leant forward. I worried for the buttons on her blouse: they looked like they were under quite a lot of strain there; I would have suggested that she try leaving some of them undone but I make it a rule never to advise a woman on her dress sense until at least a five minute acquaintance.

'Yeah, Scotch with water - easy on the H-two-O.'

One eyebrow went up. 'Scotch? You sure?'

'Kitten, I've rarely been so sure of anything in my life. Set it up.'

She shrugged and one of her buttons squeaked in protest. 'Okay.' Her movements were deft and easy and she was pretty generous in her measurements (take that as you will), which are all good things in any barkeep. The glass got put in front of me and I hauled out my wallet and peeled off a couple of greenbacks. The girl looked at them, looked at me, then went back to the jack. She held them both up to the light.

'Where did you get these? They look like the real thing.'

'They are the real thing - what do you take me for? Some bootlegger passing funny-money?'

That got me a giggle and another raised eyebrow. She kept running her fingers over the notes. 'Forgot your credit chit, huh?'

'Uh-'

'Thought so.' Her lips pressed together. 'Okay, look: I'll put it on the slate for you, but just this once. And only because it's you.'

I grinned at her again; sometimes it pays to be a guy named Mike Garibaldi. 'You know you're my favourite girl?'

She pushed my arm a little. 'Oh, you...' The lettuce got slid across to me and I slid it back. 'Keep it.' Hell, she got a kick out of the stuff so why not? I downed my Scotch and it barely took the edge off; I wondered just how much of the stuff it would take to stop my nerves jangling but I didn't get to find out because I saw something that actually did me more good than any kicker.

John Sheridan was walking along and he looked like he meant business. I'd never been so glad to see anyone in my life; anymore grateful and I would have thrown myself on his neck, then got down on one knee and proposed marriage. I couldn't see Della with him but figured that she had to be close by; I slid off my stool and waved my arm like a nut.

'John! Hey, Johnny-boy!'

He stopped and turned. I jogged over to him.

'Buddy, am I glad to see you. And a heck of a time you chose to play dress-up. What's with the threads?' He had some black effort on with a nice line in grey piping on it. I decided to skip it - sometimes it's better not to try getting John, you just end up with a headache otherwise. 'Hey, have you any idea how we ended up in this cockeyed caravan? And how the hell do we get out?'

John looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my neckwear. Okay, so I don't have the greatest taste in ties but this one wasn't that bad. He was about to say something then leant forward, sniffed at me and a tick in his jaw started up like it was doing the Mexican Hat Dance. 'Have you been drinking?'

'Are you kidding me? Of course I have - can you blame me? Hey,' I took hold of his elbow with one hand and jerked my thumb in the direction of my nice cosy bar where Kitten was still working her stuff. 'I've got me a slate going on over there - I say we take advantage of that before they wise-up to the fact that we're not supposed to be.'

John took his elbow out of my grasp. His nostrils were flaring. I'd never seen him that tightly wound before, unless you count the time Bester had been threatening his better half. 'What the hell- Michael. The last thing I need right now is you falling apart on me.'

I put my eyebrows up. 'Who's falling apart? Okay, so I'm feeling on the wrong side of hysterical right about now but can you honestly tell me that all this is jake with you?'

'Who's Jake?' He shook his head like there was a flea bothering him. 'Look-' John broke off again when there was a chime. He raised the back of his hand to his mouth, tapped some silver thing he'd stuck to it and said, 'Sheridan, go.'

And he thought I was going screwy?

I revised that opinion approximately one second later when a voice rose back up at him. If I'd known he was able to do that before, I would have taken him on the road and sold tickets - John Sheridan and His Amazing Talking Hand.

_'Captain, we have an incoming message from Commander Ivanova.'_

'Put her through.'

The voice was tinny but I knew it. Susan Ivanova. Commander Ivanova? I may have called her that in fun, once, because even though she's a sweet kid she's still bossy, but that was just fooling.

_'Captain.'_

'Is there a problem?' He looked like _he_ had one and then looked at me like I was it.

_'Uh... You could put it like that.'_

His jaw was doing that tightening thing again and I hoped for his sake he had a real good dentist.

'Were you able to get in touch with the First Ones?'

_'Not exactly. I guess you could say I got hold of some Old Ones. Look, there's ... there's someone here I'm bringing back up with me_; _I just wanted to give you a head's up.'_

He scowled at The Hand. 'You're bringing- Who? Susan-'

_'I'll explain when I get back there. Her name is Della. I think- I think I sort of pulled her out of the past. You might want to get a hold of Garibaldi. Ivanova out.'_

There was silence then and my new companion had the strangest expression on his face I've ever seen in my life. I say 'new companion' because while he'd been having his chin-wag on the blower without using a blower, I'd taken a real good look at him and I had come to a conclusion. He looked like John Sheridan; he sounded like John Sheridan; if I tilted my head and squinted at him I could see John Sheridanness busting out all over. But I knew John Sheridan and this joker wasn't him. For one thing, this bird was a few years older and his hair was longer.

I would have made my excuses and split right then but there were two things that stopped me: one, the girl calling herself Commander Susan Ivanova had mentioned Della and I was guessing that she wasn't someone they knew which meant it was possible that the Della in question was one of my posse; and two, the ringer for my partner had taken hold of my arm and, brother, did he have a grip on him.

'Look, Michael, I don't know what is going on with you but we really don't have time for this. Do me a favour, will you, and pull yourself together? It's bad enough with Stephen; we don't need you going down the tubes as well.'

I tried to shrug him off which was harder than it sounds. I thought about my options and as I didn't get very far I decided to play it on the level. 'Okay, buddy, look. This will sound screwy - hell, it should do, it is screwy - but that doesn't mean that it isn't true. The thing is, I don't know you and you don't know me. You know some character named Michael Garibaldi - congratulations, that's a good name to be able to pull out of a hat when you're in a tight spot. But he ain't me. And I know a character called John Sheridan - he's not much to write home about but he's my partner and I'm used to him. He fills in one half of the office quite nicely and replaces the office bottle when necessary; he's a stand-up guy, strictly on the level. I'd like to find him if I can. And you're not him. So. How do you like them apples?'

There was no answer for a moment. His hands were at his sides flexing loosely and I didn't like the look of that. When he spoke his voice was low and dangerous. 'What the hell are you talking about? If this is some kind of joke it's getting real old real fast.'

I held up my hands. 'This is no joke. And I'm talking about the fact that I don't belong here. I don't even know where here is. All I do know is that one moment I was in the office with John and his wife - and she may be the Della that your girl Ivanova is delivering here. If so, I'd like to see her.'

He frowned. He was a man with questions. The one he asked wasn't the one I expected. 'How did you know they got married?'

'What? Who?'

He hesitated for a moment. 'This ... John Sheridan. The detective. And Della. How did you know? I didn't tell you that; I didn't tell anyone about that.'

It was my turn to be stood on my head and I took it. 'What's for you to tell? You don't know 'em. Do you? Anyhow, they sent me a telegram. They sent Susan a telegram. If you want accuracy, it was really just the one telegram that they sent to both of us. The society pages went nuts when they heard. They've been calling themselves Mr and Mrs Sheridan all over town for a year - it isn't exactly a secret.'

The man pretending to be John Sheridan shook his head like his invisible flea was back. 'That- That isn't possible.'

I fished out my ID card. 'Look - Michael Garibaldi. It's got my description, profession, the works.'

He held it between his fingers like he didn't trust it, examined it and then examined me. It was a bit like being X-rayed; I thought that at least one of us should be wearing a lead apron. He still had hold of the card and then, very slowly and still keeping his eyes on me, he gave The Hand an encore.

'Sheridan to Garibaldi.'

There was a pause and then I heard a very thin-voiced me answer him.

_'Captain.'_

'Where are you?'

_'Brown Sector - why, you need something?'_

'No. No, it's- I- When can you get up here?'

_'Uh, I don't know. Soon. There are some things I need to take care of down here first.'_

'Okay. Let me know when you're done. Sheridan out.'

I got my card handed back to me. Sheridan leaned against the wall; he'd dialled down the Superman X-ray stare a notch and looked like he could do with a drink but as he hadn't seemed too struck by my suggestion of Kitten setting us up with a round, I kept my mouth shut.

'Okay,' he said and ran his hand through his hair, 'okay. You're coming with me.'

I got jerked by the arm.

'Fine,' I told him, 'but quit dancing with me, will ya? I can walk just fine on my own; I've been putting one foot in front of the other all by myself for a long time now.'

He let go. 'I'm sorry, it's just...' He actually laughed a little, a breath of a thing but it made his face look a lot less like somebody had carved it out of granite and a lot more like my partner's. And I'll be damned but if that didn't make me miss the big lug. Sheridan put his eyes all over my face and looked like someone had let all of the air out of him. He let out a deep breath. 'People popping up out of the past doesn't happen everyday - even here.'

'Uh-huh.' Popping up out of the past? I can't say that I liked the sound of that. I also wondered that if someone who wasn't a John Sheridan had said that to me if I would have wrestled them to the floor and then waited for the white-coat boys to come along and do their stuff. 'Where is here?'

'This is... It's called Babylon Five. We're a port.'

'Port, huh? You building your ports underground these days?'

There was a pause. 'Not exactly.'

He wasn't trying to beat me over the head and drag me off anymore, just steering me helpfully through corridors.

'Okay, bud, while you're in a question-answering mood - where are we headed?'

His eyes kept darting about while we walked and talked - not paranoid, just watchful and I wondered if he was always like this or if it was something I'd said. 'The main office. It will be easier to talk there - see if we can figure out what the hell is going on.'

I stopped. 'Hey, no, look- You can stop with all the taking-me-to-your-leader, see? I don't need to cosy up with the head honcho, you'll do just fine.'

He looked at me and one eyebrow flickered. 'You're already talking to the head honcho.'

I squinted at him. 'You?'

'Yes, me.' There was a note of pride in his voice you would have heard clear across Times Square during rush hour on a Friday afternoon.

'Whoa. This whole damn place, the lot, is a port?'

'Yes.'

'And you're telling me that you're in charge of it? All of it? No fooling?'

He was starting to get annoyed. 'No!'

'No you're not, or no you're not fooling?'

This time his lips pressed out and in and then he took in a deep breath. 'Look. I'm Captain John J. Sheridan; I'm the commander of Babylon Five. Okay?'

I laughed and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. It took me a minute before I could get enough air in to say, 'Okay, brother, spill: what dirt did you have on who to get given this gig?'

I could see the headache building behind one eye and I grinned at him.

_TBC_


	3. Concentrate On You

**ooOoo**

**Concentrate on You**

**ooOoo**

The garden was small, attractive and would have been pleasant except for the thing that looked like a cross between an elevated train and a roller-coaster that kept rattling past overhead. With the benches, pathways and maples it reminded me of a place I'd seen in Tokyo once - at a time when Tokyo had seen better days, but we'll skip that. I wondered vaguely if Della would approve of the layout. There were no orchids; but then despite what people might think, orchids aren't actually her favourite flower.

I had bought her stocks the first time I had bought her any at all - sweet, night-scented things and she had held the blooms up to her face.

'How did you know?' She had seemed astonished by them.

It turned out that they were her favourites. I'd just bought them because I'd liked the smell and they were same colour as the blouse she had been wearing. And she drank in the perfume of them, watching me over the tops so that all I could see were her eyes and the dark wave of her hair.

And that had been the moment, the one where I knew that I could never let her go.

I sat on one of the stone benches and stared at a patch of green that looked like grass but I wasn't convinced. I had no idea where I was, let alone Della - the first part I could live with; the second part I didn't like one bit. So, there I sat and tried to think of a plan; short of tearing the place apart or wandering about yelling her name like some demented Heathcliff, I couldn't think of one. And neither of what I'd come up with so far sounded like much of a plan. I've never been much good at just sitting around doing nothing and as it was getting me no further just then than it ever had before I decided to move on. I'd worry about where to when I actually found somewhere worth the stop.

And it was just as I'd arrived at this decision that I heard the voice. I couldn't hear the words but I heard the tone, the lilt, and I knew it. I knew her voice better than I knew my own. And I thought that maybe good things really did come to those who wait, after all. I stood up, started towards the curved doorway that led to the corridor where Della's voice was coming from and a woman in a bright silk number appeared in front of me and the effect of seeing her was like getting a kick in the chest.

The long dark hair was right. So were the shape of her mouth and the colour of her eyes... Yes, the eyes were the same. She was even, more or less, the same height and shape as my wife. But she wasn't my wife. She should have been but she wasn't. And when she saw me she smiled and walked towards me.

'John. I thought that I might find you here.' She seemed pleased by this. This woman using Della's face and Della's voice - it must have been her voice I heard. And it was the same voice but she had an accent that I couldn't place. 'John? What is it? Are - are you unwell?'

She looked genuinely concerned; she tried to put her hand on my arm and I pulled away from her. I didn't mean to, it was an instinctive reaction but it seemed to have the same effect on her that she'd had on me. Her hand dropped to her side.

'No, I-' I cleared my throat. 'I'm sorry. I'm not unwell.' I was staring at her and I tried to stop; apart from anything else I could see that I was starting to scare her and I'm not the sort of man who gets a kick out of frightening women. I had thought at first that she was wearing a tiara or a coronet of some sort but when I looked at her properly I realised that the thing curved around her head over her hair was actually attached - I could see where the skin at her temples gave way to it. It suited her, I thought. I made myself look her in the eye again and there were so many things in her face: confusion, concern and even a little sadness. 'I- Look, please, why don't you sit down?'

She looked at me for a moment and then sat on the bench that I'd just left. I sat next to her - not too close. She kept her hands clasped in her lap and watched me. I took a breath and decided that dancing around the thing wouldn't help much but I also didn't want her yelling to be rescued from the nut who had got his hands on her.

'You were looking for me?' She couldn't have been - except for the fact that she had been.

'Yes. I have had a report from the Rangers in Sector Twenty-seven - the refugees arrived safely. It is good news - I thought that you would wish to know.'

She didn't quite look at me while she spoke: her glance slipped sideways but most of the time she talked to a patch of air about a foot in front of her. Maybe what she was saying made more sense to the air than it did to me. What made even less sense than that was the fact that she seemed to think that she knew me - or rather, she knew someone she thought was me.

'You know my name, don't you?'

That was when her eyes got fixed on my face and the concern part of the mix got jumped to the front of the queue. 'Of course I do. I do not understand. Why are you asking me this?' Her eyes moved from my face and wandered over the rest of me and she looked puzzled by what she saw. 'John...' Her voice did that same low, throbby thing that Della's did when she said my name and for a moment I had to tell myself to breathe.

'Okay. Just bear with me a minute. Please? If- If you were to tell someone who I was, someone who didn't know me - what would you say?'

Her mouth tightened, her chin lifting. Oh yeah, the similarities were growing now. 'I-'

'Please! Just... Just humour me a little. What would you say?'

A breath was released. 'I would say that you are Captain John Sheridan, the commander of Babylon Five.'

Babylon Five - it sounded like the sort of name given to a military base if someone was in a poetic mood. But I hadn't been anywhere near the military for three years and no-one called me 'Captain' anymore unless they were trying to annoy me.

'Okay. Look, I...' I ran a hand through my hair. 'You might know my name, but I'm not who you think I am and I-I don't know who you are.'

Her face had been pale before, now it turned white. Everything drew in: her shoulders hunched as though she were bracing herself against the world. And this time I was the one who put my hand over hers. She didn't flinch, didn't recoil, but she didn't soften either.

'I'm not trying to scare you; and I know that this doesn't make any sense but I- I'm not supposed to be here. I don't know how I got here or where this place is. And so far you're the only person who looks familiar. You- you look like my wife.'

'Your wife.' Her lips were bloodless.

'Yes. She was with me. I was at work, well, if you can call sitting around waiting for a client to ring in working- Anyhow, she was with me and now I'm here and I don't know where she is.' I took my hand off hers and half-expected her to bolt. She didn't. She watched while I fished out my wallet and opened it. The photograph had only been in there a year but it already had that slightly dog-eared look that things get when you've taken them in and out as many times I had that picture. I looked at it for a moment. It had been taken in Havana, on our honeymoon, and Della was laughing, trying to hold her hair in place against the sea breeze. We'd been sitting by the beach under a palm tree and I remembered watching the light and shade play across her face; I remembered how warm her skin had been from the sun and how her lips had tasted of salt when I'd kissed her. I held the snap out to the woman sitting beside me.

'This is her, my wife; her name is Della.'

She took it, her eyes travelling down to it slowly and then stopped. Her whole body jerked a little. Her fingers mapped the lines of Della's face then moved to her own, almost covering her own mouth and then were pressed against her chest, just below her throat. She still stared at the photograph.

'Della,' she said eventually.

'Yes.'

She looked up at me again and held out the photograph. 'She is your wife.'

'She is.' I managed to smile slightly. 'I know - I still can't quite believe that sometimes, either.'

That took us back to the place called Bewilderment.

'Never mind,' I said; I put my wallet back in my jacket pocket.

She stared at me intently, studying every part of me - considering I'd done the same to her and then done my best to convince her I belonged in the nuthouse, it seemed the least I could do to let her get on with it. She held my gaze for a long time, like she was trying to work her way inside my head; eventually she sighed, nodded her head slightly.

'It is true, isn't it? You are not John Sheridan.'

'Well, I'm _a _John Sheridan,' I said, 'I guess I'm just not _your_ John Sheridan.'

There was something in the way that she looked at me then - it was only for a second but I saw it: wistful, I guess, and I thought that I had, accidentally, touched something that hurt. 'No,' she said softly. Her eyes travelled over me again - more appraising and less puzzled than they had been the first time. 'I take it that that is why you are dressed so strangely.'

I had a quick look at myself and put my eyebrows up at her. 'It's just a regular old suit. Actually, it's a regular new suit - you're getting the benefit of some of my very best threads.'

'I-I am sorry-'

I don't think she realised that I was joking with her a little so I smiled at her to show her there were no hard feelings. 'Hey, I can take criticism of my wardrobe from anybody - but only when I know the person's name.'

'I- My name is Delenn.'

'Delenn.' Somehow, it was another similarity that didn't surprise me - by then I was clean out of surprise.

'Ambassador Delenn, of the Minbari Federation,' she clarified, the formality seemed to give her a bit of an anchor. I'd known any number of ambassadors in my time (hell, I'd been raised by one after all), but I had never seen one that looked like her. If I had I may well have joined the diplomatic corps instead of the army.

I offered her a hand. 'Well, Madam Ambassador, it is a pleasure to meet you.'

Delenn hesitated for a second, took my hand and then she smiled - and it was the same as the sun coming out on a cloudy day: it made everything it touched seem beautiful.

'Now that we're acquainted - and now that you're smiling, which suits you, by the way - can I ask you something?'

She blinked rapidly and went after the last part. 'Of course.'

I looked at her in-built tiara and gestured vaguely. 'What is that?'

Her hands moved to her temples, her fingers resting against the places where it met her skin. 'It is what remains of my bonecrest.'

'Uh-huh... Does it hurt?'

Her eyes widened; I thought I'd insulted her - maybe not taking the diplomatic career path had been the right choice - but then a light laugh escaped her lips. 'No.' She shook her head. 'No, it does not hurt.' Her smile faded, which was a pity, and her hands went back to her lap. 'It must shock you, I think.'

Shock was something of an understatement but I shrugged. 'I think I shocked you plenty right back, so that squares it pretty much. Besides, it's not every day a man meets a ringer for his wife.'

She looked a little confused. 'Ringer?' She repeated the word cautiously. My impeccable American was obviously not only impeccable but also impenetrable.

'A ringer. A dead-ringer - I mean that you look just like her.'

'I see.' She swallowed and her throat fluttered. 'But- but I am not entirely like her.' Her hand moved back to the side of her head again.

'I think it looks good.' I leant forward a little. 'Between you and me, I think everyone should have one.'

Delenn looked like she was trying to decide whether or not I was making fun of her - I wasn't and when she looked at me some more she obviously realised that because her face flushed slightly. That also looked good on her: along with smiling it was something she should do more of.

'You do not know how you came to be here?' she asked after a moment.

'No - believe me, if I knew that I'd be working on getting myself back out again.'

Delenn thought that over for a moment. 'You were not trying to come here?'

I let out a breath. 'I wasn't trying to go anywhere. I was at my desk; Mike was at his desk, probably counting the paperclips; Della-' I paused. 'Della was playing with Archie and... And then Susan came in.' I had forgotten that part until just then.

'Susan?' Her voice sounded sharper suddenly.

'Yes.' I kept it light and wondered what had got to her. 'She's our secretary. Mine and Mike's, that is; Della doesn't work with us, technically, but Mike figures it's not his place to tell her that and I just don't dare to.'

That softened her up again - she actually looked slightly amused. 'What is your work?'

'We're detectives - the private kind.'

Her head tilted. 'That is ... security work?'

'Uh, yeah, I guess, sometimes. People have problems, they come to us, we try to help.' I almost impressed myself with how noble I'd made it sound. 'Making the world a better place one client at a time.'

I think she liked that idea; I also think that even though her eyes were on my face she was seeing someone else - and I remembered from how our whole conversation had started that she wasn't the only ringer around here.

'Where had you come from - before you were here?'

'New York.'

'New York... That is in the North American Federation, correct?'

She looked pleased with her identification and I didn't really want to disappoint her - but I have to say I didn't much like the sound of it. 'Uh, if the North American Federation is the same as the United States of America, then yes - correct. New York City, June twenty-third, nineteen-forty-nine.'

Delenn's eyes widened again. 'Nineteen... You are speaking of Earth years?'

I put my eyebrows up again. 'They're the only ones I know of.'

'You did not have a time stabiliser?' She shook her head and answered her own question. 'No, you could not have done.'

'Hey, back up a minute.' I held up my hands. 'You're going to have use short words, maybe even some visual aids - I'm not exactly slow on the uptake but you're obviously about twenty steps ahead of me on this one. Look, why don't we start with something simple, like your telling me exactly where I am.'

I soon found out that that was not simple. It was a good thing that I was already sitting down - it was just a pity that I wasn't sitting down next to a bottle of Scotch.

ooOoo

'May I ask you something, Su- Commander?'

It was the first time that Della had spoken since they had left Epsilon Three. Only when the small shuttle had begun its ascent had the enormity of where she was and what had happened truly hit her. Susan had spent so many years in space that trying to remember exactly what it had felt like the very first time of being among the stars was no longer so easy: one of those things that she had thought she would never forget but somehow the memory had dulled over the years. But the knowledge of space had been something she had grown up with, it was normal; she could not imagine what it must be like for Della and wasn't certain that she wanted to. Babylon 5 had never seemed so small, looked so fragile, as now, when they approached it.

Della had sat, apparently serene, Archie clasped firmly in her arms - and apart from a couple of pitiful whines at take-off, the dog had appeared quite content to spend the journey perched on his mistress' knee. Susan glanced at the other woman out of the corner of her eye: she was almost painfully erect, her head high and her mouth set. She had taken everything with remarkable calmness and the commander wondered if she would have reacted with such grace under similar circumstances.

'Of course. Ask away.'

'Who is this Delenn for whom you keep mistaking me?'

Susan kept her focus on steering their small craft, grateful for the task that provided something of a barrier between herself and Della. 'Delenn is the Minbari ambassador to Babylon Five.'

'Minbari?'

'Yes.'

'Like Draal, you mean?'

'Yes - they're both Minbari. Draal was Delenn's mentor, or tutor, or something like that, once.'

'I see,' Della replied and didn't quite see at all how anyone could mistake herself for this Delenn person. Unless Draal's appearance was specific to Minbari men - perhaps the women looked different. Either way, Draal and Delenn were not Human; they were aliens, in every conceivable sense of the word. Della shivered despite the clammy heat in the confines of the shuttle. She had always thought it arrogance to believe that Earth was the only planet that could play home to intelligent creatures but she had not truly _believed_, not really. It had just been an abstract thought that meant nothing in reality. How wrong she had been. She had actually met with, spoken with, a being from another planet. She had been on an alien planet herself and now she was being taken on a ride through the stars. John would love it, she thought, all of it; and she felt her throat tighten. Della blinked rapidly and Archie nuzzled her cheek, his back paws digging into her thighs.

Susan felt a mixture of relief not unmixed with trepidation when they passed through the great mouth of the docking bays. Now it would all start, she thought resignedly. How would she tell the captain what had happened? She wasn't even sure what _had_ happened. And what would Sheridan make of their new guest? Susan barely knew what to make of her herself but to say that being with Della was unnerving was an understatement. When the shuttle finally came to a standstill and all the warning lights went out, Susan studied her as they both eased themselves out of the seat restraints. If the chrysalis had done a complete job on Delenn, this might have been the result, Susan thought. There was nothing to break the smooth sweep of hair away from her face; dark brows - well-groomed - arched over her eyes; her forehead was free of the slight, residual ridges that Delenn's had. But it was not just the unquestionable completeness of Della's Human status that was different - she looked younger, her face was a little more rounded, those extraordinary cheekbones were not yet quite so pronounced. Thirty, maybe thirty-three at the most, Susan guessed. And even through the strain of the situation, there was still something more light-hearted, more playful, about this woman than there was in the Minbari ambassador. Not that Delenn lacked those qualities - she just had little opportunity to indulge them.

Della pulled Archie's leash from her purse and attached it without too much resistance. Archie promptly shook himself vehemently, then looked up at her, one paw raised in preparation to go.

'It's just one big adventure to you, isn't it?' Della said to him. 'So many new things to sniff, so little time.' He wagged his tail.

Susan pulled her uniform jacket back into position, brushing some imaginary dust from her sleeve and decided that she could no longer delay the inevitable. It would have been easier - or at least more convenient - to leave Della with Draal but as they had no idea how to get her back where she had come from, it was not a course of action that Susan could, in all conscience, follow. She sighed.

'Are you ready?'

Della straightened. 'Not really - but lead on anyway.'

Susan marched them briskly through the docking bay, staring ahead, and she could sense heads turning in their direction. That was due to Della's clothes more than anything else, she thought - everyone would be too busy staring at the jewels and furs to pay much attention to her face. Which was a good thing, in Susan's mind. She glanced at her companion again and wondered just how much material was in the skirt of her dress alone. Shot grey silk flared out from a cinched waist, the low neckline was pulled wide by a pair of jewelled clips and the exposed expanse of smooth skin showed off the necklace of green diamonds. It matched her bracelet. No, not many people would be looking much above her collarbones, Susan thought. Once they started to approach the more populated corridors beyond the docks she could almost convince herself that there was a chance that they could pass unnoticed through the crowds.

Della matched Susan's pace, her heels tapping sharply as they walked and she felt that she was in grave danger of ricking her neck if she swivelled it much more. The lights, the constant noise and then the... The aliens, she supposed; Susan had told her that this was a diplomatic outpost, a meeting place for many races. But she had not supposed that there would be quite so many - and she had not thought that so many of them would look so... Alien. Some of them resembled Draal - the same remarkable appendages wrapped around their skulls. Of them, some inclined their heads to her, joining their hands in what she supposed was a form of greeting; others looked as though they were pretending not to see her.

She kept a tight hold of Archie's leash, keeping the little dog from trotting after, and investigating, every strange figure they passed. He almost pulled her shoulder out of its socket in his attempts to chase down the sources of the smells he caught. 'Will you behave yourself?' she muttered. 'And to think of all the times I've boasted what a smart dog you are; I'd have thought that you'd know better than to show us up like this.'

Susan glanced at the pair and couldn't help an incredulous smile; it was the gravity with which Della addressed her pet that got to her - the way it seemed as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to talk to him as though he could understand her. The distraction was her undoing - Susan collided with another body, using both hands to shield herself automatically.

'Oh, hey, Commander - gee, I'm sorry, I didn't see you.'

She righted herself, held her chin high as she returned Zack's apologetic stare. 'It's fine.'

'Archie!'

He had reared up already, both paws on Zack's legs and yapped happily at the young man. Zack looked down at him and then grinned, scratching the top of his head. 'Hey, where did he come from?'

'Maine, originally. Archie, get down. I'm terribly sorry, Lieutenant.'

Zack glanced at Della, looked back at the dog. 'That's okay, I like dogs - he reminds me of one I had when I was a kid; and it's still just Sergeant-' He stopped suddenly, his eyes slowly rising to her face. When he spoke again, his voice rose into a strangely strangled squawk. 'Ambassador?'

Della smiled.

'Sergeant Allen, we don't want to keep you,' Susan said firmly and took hold of Della's arm, steering her away.

'Yeah...'

'Good-bye, Sergeant,' Della called over her shoulder, 'it was nice seeing you.'

Zack watched them make their way down the corridor, his mouth still hanging open. Looked like the ambassador had decided to go all the way on the Human thing, he thought; although, how that had changed her accent as well was beyond him. And she looked like she'd been taking fashion tips from Garibaldi's collection of old vids. Zack shook himself, started towards the canteen. Worrying about things like that was way above his pay scale.

_TBC_


	4. Ain't Misbehavin'

**ooOoo**

**Ain't Misbehavin'**

**ooOoo**

There are always certain things that tell you a lot about a man and his office is one of them. The office I got taken to was neat, professional, clean - it was the sort of place you wipe your feet before entering and then stand to attention once you're in it.

It was also pretty big - the space that I called an office and shared with John would have been ashamed of itself and slunk into a corner by comparison; this office would have been insulted to have been lumped together in the same real estate category as our office to begin with.

It wasn't a corner office (we had one up on it there - John and I had a window each but as they hadn't been cleaned since about 1902 you couldn't actually see out of them) but it had one hell of a view over the inside of the place that my new best friend was calling a space station and expecting me to believe it. I humoured him. It seemed safer that way.

Sheridan glanced at the desk on one side of the room (lots of files all stacked up, everything set nicely at right-angles; these military types have a lot in common) then decided against it and directed me to the other side of the room and the arrangement of sofas and chairs he had going on by the window. I sat down then scanned the place hopefully for the liquor - no dice. The only thing lurking was a tray with some cups and saucers and what I will be calling a teapot. It didn't look like any teapot I'd ever seen but I was giving it the benefit of the doubt. Either he wasn't a big drinker or he just had the giggle juice well hidden. With the clean-cut thing he was working, I reckoned on the former and reckoned that that was just my luck.

I sat down, linked my hands behind my head and made a show of looking around. 'Nice digs,' I said. 'Big enough to let 'em know who's boss but not so big it makes you look like Al Capone.'

'Glad you approve,' he said and I guess that you could call his tone 'dry'. It was as dry as one of Della's Martinis and let me tell you, you don't get much drier than that. The good captain (I was also giving _him_ the benefit of the doubt) took a chair opposite me and put the eye on me again. I put the eye right back and realised who it was that he reminded me of - none other than John Sheridan himself. Okay, that makes me sound like I need a session with the head doctors, but it's not as screwy as it sounds. When I first met the bird who ended up as my partner we didn't exactly feel the warm glow of brotherly affection right off. I thought he could be a wrong guy, a bruno; and he probably thought I was a dirty cop with a big yap. I can't argue with the big yap part. It took a while for him to unwind and a while for me to make him as a right guy but we got there in the end. Now it was like starting from scratch.

He sat back in his chair and managed a slight smile. 'You must be finding this as...' He paused, searching for a word. 'As astounding as I do.'

'You got that right, brother,' I said. 'Actually, I think astounding is an understatement. Astounding is a line we crossed way back thattaway.' I jerked my thumb backwards over my shoulder.

That got another smile and he shook his head; he was still giving me the once over and he had the same look that I've seen guys have right before they dissect something and stick pins into it. 'Unbelievable.'

'What's unbelievable? I've been practically stood on my head; any minute I'm going to start having the screaming fits and that ain't a pretty sight, believe you me. But when they start, don't sap me; that just gets me sore - a hooker of hooch will see me just fine.'

He eyes got narrowed and his eyebrows drew together.

'What? Am I not speaking English?'

'I'm not sure.'

He looked like he was getting a headache behind his other eye - actually, I think that the two behind-the-eye headaches had joined up and were laying it on him large. This gave me an idea (I have one around that time of the day) and I pointed at him. 'You know what you look like you could do with?'

He looked apprehensive. 'What?'

'About an hour on the corn and a sympathetic ear. Now-' That was as far as I got because there came a sound like someone doing ten rounds outside the door and it was coming closer. I heard two voices - three if you count the yelps that sounded like a certain mutt I knew.

'Maybe it would be better if you didn't take him in there.'

'I'm not taking him, he's taking me!'

There was another scuffle and Della Sheridan exploded into the office. I have to hand it to her - that lady knows how to make an entrance. She let go of Archie's leash before he managed to pull her over and reached out to steady herself against the back of a chair; I jumped up and grabbed hold of her and kept her on her feet.

'Slow down, will you, or they'll take you for a bangtail.'

She looked up at me. 'Mike? Is that really you?'

'Well if it isn't, someone's been holding out on me and I want to know about it.'

'Oh, thank God!' Della sounded like she meant it and threw her arms around my neck. I didn't discourage her. That was because I was I glad to see her and also because no guy in his right mind would prise loose a girl who looks the way Della does until it's strictly necessary.

When a little more time than was absolutely necessary had passed I took hold of her and held her away from me a little. 'Are you okay?'

She nodded; I looked over her shoulder and found empty space where someone should have been.

'Where's our boy?'

Della's face lost that nice glow she'd had. 'I don't know. When I saw you- I thought that John would be with you.'

Nuts.

'He'll turn up,' I told her, 'even if you don't want him to. In fact, especially if you don't want him to. Maybe that's it - we'll both wish real hard that we won't see him and the next thing you know he'll be right in front of us trying to discover the entire history of an alien world in five easy lessons. There are aliens here, did you know that?'

Her smile was a little watery but it was there. 'I knew that.'

'In the meantime, here's a John Sheridan that I made earlier.' I gestured widely to the bird in the chair. Archie had made a bee-line for him, put his paws on his knee and was drooling all over the man's nice clean uniform. Sheridan didn't notice, I don't think; he was too busy staring at Della. He patted Archie's head absent-mindedly then pushed him away and stood up.

'Well, Captain, this is-'

'Della.'

He looked frozen; I looked at Della and so did she.

'I didn't- I didn't think you were real.' His voice had gone soft and slow; I don't think he remembered that there was anyone else there. 'I thought you were just a dream.'

Della took a couple of steps forward and prodded him, hard, in the middle of his chest. He looked astonished. Her eyes flashed.

'Well how would you feel if people kept telling you that you were just something that they'd dreamt up? Do I look like a figment of someone's imagination to you?'

His mouth opened a little and he sucked in a breath. 'I- No. No, of course not. I'm sorry, but...' His eyes wandered all over her face. And then all over the rest of her. 'You are Della Ramir, aren't you?'

'Yes. No! I mean, I was- I'm Della Sheridan now.'

'Yes, of course...' His face relaxed some and one corner of his mouth lifted. 'Hello. I'm Captain John Sheridan.' He held out a hand to her.

Della looked from his face, down to his hand, then back up to his face and she smiled. 'Sus- Commander Ivanova told me about you, but I didn't really think... Hello.' She took his hand and it stayed taken.

I watched all of this and after a while I thought about breaking it up because Della is married to my partner and there are rules about that sort of thing; on the other hand Della is well able to take care of herself and if she was happy to have some character hold onto her hand like it belonged to him, it made no never mind to me. It was the first time I'd ever seen Della give any guy who wasn't John the time of day and I guessed that she wouldn't have with this guy if he hadn't looked just like her husband.

At any rate, I was more interested in the dish who had followed Della in and who owned the other voice I had heard from the corridor.

I knew a Susan Ivanova when I saw one so I had no doubt about the identity of this specimen. She had the easy stalking walk of a panther and the black uniform to match. The Susan I knew was a great girl and a sweet kid; this one... This one was something else.

She had picked up Della's wrap from the floor where it had landed after the Great Schnauzer Flight and was laying it over the back of a chair; she held it like she didn't quite approve of it and it was the first time that I'd ever seen any dame look at anything of the mink variety with a look that wouldn't break at least one of the Ten Commandments. It didn't last long. She put it down and her fingers sank into the soft pile of fur and she got that dreamy expression that dames get. But that wasn't really what was holding her attention. She was busy looking at the couple who were still doing their star-crossed bit and I decided to take the casual approach in striking up a little chin music because I don't think it does a dame good to know that after you've seen her for the first time, one look from her is enough to make you feel like a run in a stocking. If this one had given me one look of the right sort I probably would have rolled on my back with my paws in the air. Instead, I jerked my chin at Della.

'Please don't tell me that you've got one of those, too.'

Her head snapped in my direction so fast I thought she might break it clean off. 'What?'

'One of her: a Della. I mean, I've met a John Sheridan and I wouldn't have thought that anybody would have been stupid enough to have made another one of him; apparently there's one of me running about this joint but that is understandable - once you've reached the pinnacle of something there's no going back; and they didn't break the mould after they popped you out. So. Do you have your very own Della and is your captain as dizzy for her as my guy is for Della?'

Susan's mouth opened, closed, then thinned until her lips all but disappeared.

'Garibaldi.'

'Present and correct. Call me Mike - it's a good name. A strong name. It's manly; it's trustworthy. It's the sort of name you can bellow in a crisis and know that a fine upstanding specimen of the male of the species is going to show up and rescue you.'

Okay, so most of the time I left the rescuing up to John but she didn't need to know that and I was trying to make a good impression.

'No.' Susan shook her head. Her eyes went from me to Della and back. 'No. I- If this is a joke, you're a dead man!'

'That's almost exactly what he said,' I told her and jerked my thumb at the captain (he was no longer attached to Della but they were still standing closer together than polite society would have called decent), 'only without the death threats. You're not the first woman to threaten to kill me, but you're definitely the best-looking one who has.'

'This isn't happening.'

'Yes it is, absolutely; it isn't a dream.' I looked at her pointedly. 'Do you want me to pinch you?'

Her cheeks flared a nice shade of pink. 'Whoever you are, your manners could stand some work.'

'That's true,' I said, 'they worry me. They keep me awake nights; but no matter how I nurture them they just keep getting worse.'

She actually laughed then - despite herself, I think. 'How- how did you get here?'

'Well, I was looking for a girl, see; and I was just thinking that I would probably have to go to the ends of the Earth to find the right number for me only it turns out that I had to go to the ends of the galaxy - if you can believe that - and so here I am.'

Susan Ivanova stared at me and I took a good look at the great baby-blues of hers - a man could jump straight into those pools and never come back out. She swallowed hard and looked back over at Della. 'You know her?'

'Sure - she's married to my partner.'

I got a bark of laughter as a reward.

'Of course she is.'

A real bark drew me back to Della and the captain. She had got hold of Archie's leash again but she was too busy staring up at the big mook in uniform to pay much attention to what the hound was up to. As far as he was concerned, he had located both of his relevant humans and was busy rounding them up. As they both discovered when Sheridan tried to offer Della a seat. He stepped one way, she stepped another and Archie ran around both of them until he had them trussed like a couple of turkeys at Thanksgiving.

Sheridan tried to keep some distance between himself and Della (pity they hadn't tried that earlier) but all he ended up doing was pulling her closer and all but pulling both of them over. Each move they made brought them into the sort of close contact that's probably illegal in public in some states - and probably illegal in private in others.

'Archie. Archie! Stop that!'

Susan sprang over and tried to get hold of the mutt but he took this as part of a great game and wriggled away from her. Della and her new pal stumbled sideways.

'Susan, you're not helping.' Sheridan had his teeth gritted and his hands on Della's waist. She was trying to look anywhere but directly at his face; in the end she gave up, rested her forehead against his shoulder and started to laugh. He looked down at her and got that goofy expression I've seen John adopt when he looks at her. Then he looked at Archie and-

'Sit!'

The hound sat.

Hell, _I_ nearly sat and I was sitting down already. Damn, maybe this guy really was in charge around here after all.

Della lifted her head, kept one hand against his chest and wiped her eyes with the other. 'He never does that for me,' she said.

Sheridan grinned down at the mutt. 'He's a cute little thing.'

'Hmm.'

They passed the leash back and forth, unwinding themselves until they were free; it took them longer than you would have thought and there was a lot of laughter of the soft, friendly sort while they were at it. Archie gazed up at the captain with canine adoration and thumped his tail on the ground. Della straightened her dress, smoothing down her skirt across her hips and then laid a smile on Sheridan.

'Anymore of that and we'd have to change our names to Abbott and Costello.'

His eyes widened. 'You know Abbott and Costello?'

'Doesn't everybody?' She tilted her head. 'Who's on first.'

'I don't know.'

'He's on third, we're not talking about him.'

She smiled, then he smiled and he looked at her with the look of a man who can't quite figure out how he managed to get to third base that fast.

Either that or he was just blinded by the light bouncing off all the ice she was wearing.

Della sashayed across the office, sat down on one of the couches and pulled open her purse.

Susan turned her focus to Sheridan. 'What are we going to do?'

'Huh?'

'I said, what are we going to do?'

He blinked. 'About what?'

She stared at him. 'About our problem.'

'What problem?'

'_This_ problem!'

'Oh ... Yeah, right, that.' He looked at me and then looked at Della and I got the feeling that he considered Della's presence to be a lot less of a problem than he did mine. I wondered just how it was that he seemed to know who she was - I don't mean that he thought she was someone else that he knew, the way he did me; I mean that he knew _her_. Then I remembered something else he had said earlier - he had known that John and me were detectives and I knew that I hadn't told him that but he'd known it anyway; so now _I_ had a problem.

Susan had another problem to add to her others (I figured she was a girl who had a lot of them) and it involved Sheridan. She stared at him like she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing and then rolled her eyes heavenward. He sat down opposite Della and just about managed to make it look like he wasn't watching her while he talked to Susan.

'What did Draal say?' he asked.

'Drahl? He's here?'

'Not that Drahl,' Della told me, 'another one.'

I put my eyebrows up. 'There are two Drahls?'

She raised her head from her purse-related foraging and smiled. 'There appear to be two of just about everyone - Drahl ought not be an exception. I've already met Zack.'

'Zack? No fooling?'

'No fooling.'

She's too classy a piece to be able to pull off my phraseology convincingly but I like her for trying.

'How did he look?'

Della considered this. 'Tired. He's a sergeant here, but it looks as though he's in the military not the police.'

I tried to picture Zack Allen in the army and couldn't; then again, I couldn't have pictured most of the stuff that had happened today so it seemed like the best choice was to let it slide.

Della found what she was burrowing for - came up with a slim case that she kept her cigarettes in and picked one out. I felt in my pockets for my lighter - a nice gold number with my initials on that Della had given me for Christmas - and flicked it until the flame started. I leant towards her, holding it out.

'What are you doing?'

We both started; Susan Ivanova was staring at us, her peepers looking set to pop right out of her head.

'What? Haven't you ever seen a lady have her gasper lit for her before? What's the matter with you?'

'You-you can't do that.' She stared at the flame and the cigarette in Della's hand and looked horrified.

'Oh, I'm sorry.' Della got out the case again and held it out to her. 'I'm not normally so ill-mannered; please - help yourself.'

Susan pulled back like she thought the gaspers were going to form a small legion and bite her; she shook her head. 'No! You- You can't smoke in here.' She looked at Sheridan for what I guess was moral support and he was looking at Della and me like we were specimens under a microscope again.

Della looked uncertainly at the little while tube between her fingers and raised her eyebrows at me.

'She can't,' Susan repeated, 'she can't smoke in here.'

Sheridan managed to peel his eyes off us and looked up at the commander. 'Oh, I think we can make an exception, don't you? I don't have a, uh, an ashtray, though...' He was on the move again; he went across to his tray with the teapot and came back with a saucer that he put on the table in front of Della. She laid another smile on him and his lips curved back at her like she was the best thing he'd seen all day.

She probably was at that.

I fished out my own deck of Luckies and offered them about but there were no takers; Susan was still looking at us like she would have locked us in the slammer for taking a couple of puffs and even Sheridan looked the wrong side of disgusted when he eyed my smokes. His loss. I lit one and figured that he was just about the only army boy I'd ever met who didn't chew on a deck like there was no tomorrow. Della pushed the saucer so it lay between us within easy reach for both; she doesn't really smoke her cigarettes all that much, she just likes sitting with them. I think sometimes it gives her something to do with her hands when she doesn't know what else to do with herself. The smoke curled about her, giving her that soft-focussed look. Sheridan looked pretty soft-focussed himself looking at her. She cleared her throat.

'Captain Sheridan - would you tell me something?'

'Yes, if I can.'

'When I came in here... When I was dragged in here, rather-' Archie, at her feet, let out a sigh on cue '-you said that you thought that I was just a dream. Flattering though that is, why would you think that?'

His face went rigid - I sort of felt for the guy, having three pairs of eyes stuck on him, my own included. The tick in his jaw made a quick appearance. 'That's... That's complicated.'

'Oh. Oh, of course.' Della tapped the ash off the end of her cigarette and sat back. 'What with everything up until now having been so simple and straightforward, you must forgive my being confused on that point.'

He let out another breath of laughter. 'Yeah... I'm sorry, it's just...' He had that same trick of rubbing his thumb against his forefinger while he was thinking that John did. 'That question is probably answered more easily when Michael gets here - Michael Garibaldi, our Chief of Security.'

'I see.'

'I'm not trying to keep anything from you, it's just that, well, this situation isn't the easiest to explain.'

And wasn't that the truth. Della was still for a moment then inclined her head, took another puff.

Susan cleared her throat. 'Do you think it's a good idea to stay here?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well... You do have something of an open door policy and until we know what's going on with ... our visitors... It could make people uneasy.'

Sheridan inhaled deeply then let out the breath. 'You're probably right.' His fingers tapped against the arm of his chair then he stood up. 'I'll leave a message for Garibaldi telling him where to meet us when he's finished in Downbelow.'

I liked the sound of this Michael Garibaldi already. Chief of Security. He was obviously a man of standing and status. I could picture him: a man of virtue, integrity and refinement. Handsome, of course; a tall, fine figure of a man; audacious, loquacious...

I glanced sideways at Della; she was still holding herself as erect as a soldier on the parade ground, just like always, but she was further into her corner of the couch and her free hand was cupping the back of her neck the way it always did when she felt vulnerable and didn't want to show it. I put what I like to think was a friendly, brotherly hand on her arm.

'We could always just stand you in the busiest place in this joint and wait.'

She started a little and looked at me. 'For what?'

'You know for what - sooner or later, John always manages to find his way to you.'

_TBC_


	5. Stardust

**ooOoo**

**Stardust**

**ooOoo**

By the time the lovely lady ambassador had finished saying her piece I was put in mind of something I had read a long time ago - something along the lines of: when you've eliminated the impossible whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Mike has his own version: when you ask a question you hear some stories that are unbelievable and with good reason - they aren't true; but once in a while you'll hear an answer even more screwy than the unbelievable ones and, like it or not, the screwy answer is actually the right one.

Mike Garibaldi - pulp poet.

'So,' I said and my voice sounded weaker than I like to think it does normally, 'we're in space.'

'Yes.'

It was unnerving to be sitting next to someone who could give that answer that calmly - like it was the most normal thing in the world. Although, given everything that Delenn had just told me, it _was_ the most normal thing for her.

'Don't you ever worry that someone will leave a window open?'

She tilted her head at me, a little wrinkle appearing between where her eyebrows would have been if she'd had any. 'I do not understand.'

'Well, there's not any oxygen in space is there?'

'No, no there is not-'

'That's what I mean - what if someone leaves a window open and all of the air gets sucked out? Do you just hold your breath and hope that they get it closed in time or will everybody's heads explode?'

Her head tilted in the other direction, looking at me along her eyes. 'You are joking?'

I put my eyebrows up. 'I hope so, for all our sakes - now you've got me worrying about windows. Not to mention that I can't hold my breath for all that long; plus me with an exploded head isn't my best look - some people might disagree but I like my head where it is.'

Her lips twitched; I wondered what she'd look like if she threw her head back and laughed - I had a pretty good idea but I thought that I'd like to see it anyway. I tilted my head back and looked straight up. I'd thought that you could see dark skies and stars through the big dome thing up top because it was night-time - now I knew it was because it was always night-time here. I think I was looking up at it for longer than I'd realised - when I looked back at Ambassador Delenn she was watching me and she had that same thoughtful, slightly wistful expression she'd had earlier. I'm not used to being scrutinised like that, especially not by a woman - especially not by a beautiful woman, except for one. It made me start to fidget. I cleared my throat, ran a hand through my hair.

'You know, I, uh, I used to dream about being in space - when I was a kid, I mean. Travelling through the stars, meeting, well, different races.' I smiled at her. 'I never thought that I'd actually make it.'

Her eyes still wandered over my face; then she stood up and looked down at me. 'Let me show you something.'

I stood and offered her my arm - she looked at it like she wasn't sure what to do with it. I took hold of her hand and pulled it through. She fitted on my arm well enough, but not perfectly. Delenn blinked at me.

'It's standard procedure when you're escorting a lady,' I told her. 'If I don't people are going to start questioning my morals.'

'I see,' she said gravely. 'We cannot allow that.'

'No, we can't.' I smiled at her and she gave me this little half-quirk of her lips that I had come to quite like already. We started off and she held herself a little further from me than is usual when a woman takes a guy's arm but I didn't take it personally.

Delenn took me through more corridors and I tried not to stare, which wasn't easy. I felt like the worst kind of tourist - the one who stops and stares and takes snaps of everything that isn't nailed down. In fact, takes snaps of everything that _is_ nailed down as well, just in case they missed anything. People talked to walls around here, I found out. That in itself wasn't remarkable - plenty of people back home talk to walls; I've even been known to address the occasional passing comment to one myself. What was different here was that the walls talked back. Sleek, shiny black bits of wall that lit up and talked to you. I bet you have hours of fun with those things.

And it wasn't like people talked to them because of a lack of anyone else to talk to - this place was about as empty as Yankee Stadium during a World Series playoff.

'What is - he? Her? It? I don't even know what to call them...' I talked out of the corner of my mouth, eyes darting to the blue-grey-hued ... person ... we had just passed.

'He is Drazi,' Delenn replied. It was about the fiftieth time she had answered that sort of question from me and she was not showing any signs of losing patience yet.

'Drazi,' I repeated. A guy with a nice arrangement of black hair ambled in the opposite direction. 'And he's a, uh, Centauri, right?'

She smiled. 'Correct, Mr Sheridan.'

I glanced at her. 'You know, you could just call me John.'

'That- I-' Her cheeks flushed and her eyes dropped from my face for a moment. 'We have only known one another for a very little while; I...'

I put my free hand over hers for a moment - the one that was in the crook of my arm. 'Don't worry about it; I'm guessing that you take more time about these things, huh?'

She considered this. 'Yes... That is true.' I guess there was also the little matter of some other guy running around the place that she called John - in a tone of voice that said she'd known him a lot longer than a little while. 'Minbari do not conduct relationships as you do,' she continued: 'we have many rituals; there is always the correct time for when certain ... developments ... will occur.'

'Hey, I understand. So, do I still call you Madam Ambassador until notified otherwise ... Madam Ambassador?'

Her head tilted back a little and she looked at me with what I'm going to call a knowing look for want of a better word. 'You may call me Delenn.' She glided along next to me and we just left it at that.

The place we washed up at eventually was, I suppose, a viewing platform of sorts, with one doozy of a view. Curved walls of clear glass (or something) were pretty much all that stood between us and what was outside. And...

And. Unless you've stood looking out with the whole damn universe falling away at your feet, there's no way to explain how it feels. You'll just have to get yourself up there sometime and find out. My brain stopped working for a while, I think; I stood and I stared and that was about it. There was a possibility I would have stood there forever and I wouldn't be surprised to learn that people have grown old doing just that.

Space was full of colour - that was something I discovered right there. A planet, an actual planet, was a huge gold sphere curving somewhere below us; twisting, drifting things in shades of purple formed hazy patterns at various corners and everything glowed.

Bit by bit, I started to get back the ability to think. And I thought that I was standing looking at a sky as dark as my wife's hair and stars as bright as her eyes; and I imagined the look on her face if she could see all of this. I had sworn to her that I would never leave her and I'd be damned if I would break that promise, even for all this. I wouldn't leave her for this.

I caught my breath, finally, and forced myself to turn away; Delenn had been watching me looking out and for a moment I couldn't look at her. I couldn't look at her eyes, especially the way they were shining just then.

'It is ... beautiful, is it not?'

I nodded. What do you say to a woman who's just shown you the universe?

'It is. Thank-you.' I looked at her then and I managed a smile for her. 'Certainly makes you feel your place in the scheme of things, doesn't it? No delusions of grandeur with that to remind you just how insignificant you are.'

Delenn's eyes moved to the view out the window. 'Unfortunately, that does not always appear to be the result; there are many who look out at all the beauty and greatness of the universe and wish to possess it, or destroy it if they cannot.' She sounded sad and I didn't blame her; it was a depressing thought especially considering I'd not long come through one war against a megalomaniac who'd been bent on owning every bit of land you could march jackboots across - some things just never change.

I treated myself to another look and on the second go it actually took a little less time before my thought processes kicked in again. 'Well, I don't want to own it,' I said, 'I'm happy just looking; no world domination for me - or should that be galaxy domination?' I shook my head. 'And I can't believe I just said that.' There was a pause and then I asked, 'So, how is _your_ war going?'

I had managed to surprise her and I saw suspicion flit across her face, her eyes hardening - maybe she took me for some sort of Fifth Columnist. 'Look, I've seen enough military posts on a battle footing to recognise one when I'm in the middle of it.'

'It is ... progressing.' Delenn looked me up and down like she was trying to judge my fitness for battle duty. 'You were military?' She sounded a little sceptical.

'I was; I'm not anymore. I was a captain in the army.' It was the first time I'd noticed the irony there - I really was slow on the uptake but it was far from a regular day for me. 'The only person who calls me Captain these days is a character name of Lon Mollari and he only does that because he knows I don't like it when he does.'

'Lon Mollari.' She repeated the name slowly.

'Yeah, he's the barkeep at a restaurant he runs with a buddy, Gerry Karopoulous - and I use the word 'buddy' in the loosest possible sense. They may be business partners but I think that they spend most of their time trying to kill each other.'

Delenn had got strangest expression and I got the feeling that there was more to that story, somewhere, but I didn't start asking questions. I wasn't sure I could take the answers.

'Delenn...' She looked at me; I cleared my throat and carried on. 'You've been very kind - and incredibly patient. I wanted to thank you for that. But I- I have to get out of here. I have to. I have to get home. You seem to understand all of this a lot better than I do - can you help me?'

'I...' She looked down at the floor. 'I do not know; despite what you may think, I do not understand what has happened. But I will do what I can to help you.' She put her hand on my arm - more out of impulse than anything else, I think. We both looked down at where she was holding me and I looked back up at her; Delenn kept her head lowered for a moment and I could see colour staining her cheeks again. She let go, her hands linking together in front of her before she looked up at me. 'I believe that it may be best if I take you to see Captain Sheridan.'

That wasn't something I had been looking forward to but I'd already guessed that there was no other way around it - with a problem this big (I think it's safe to say that it was of cosmic proportions) you can't do much better than go straight to the guy in charge of the whole shebang. But I was also pretty sure that the last thing he would need was his long-lost something-or-other dropping by to say 'Hi.'

On the other hand, if he was anything like me, he might also turn out to be the friendliest, most helpful sort of character you could wish to meet. On a good day, at least.

'Okay, if that's what you think is best.'

'Yes...'

Two people wandered past us and murmured greetings - I responded automatically before realising that I wasn't actually the Captain Sheridan they thought they were talking to. Delenn smiled stiffly in their direction, her eyes following them until they were out of earshot.

'I, uh- Perhaps I should take you to the captain's quarters instead of the office. It is less populated.'

'Oh, really?' I leant against a wall (of the non-glass kind) and looked down her. 'Trying to keep me under wraps, huh? I'll start to think that you don't want to be seen with me.'

Her eyes slanted at me, that half-smile of hers putting in an appearance and it was a little wider than it had been before. 'I would not say that.' Her chin lifted. 'But it will be very confusing for people, especially in the officers' sector; it is also possible that it may be the wiser course to let Captain Sheridan know what has occurred before he meets you.'

'Okay, you've sold me - and you're lucky I still like you.' I offered her my arm again and she took it with barely a flicker. I had one final look out that big window before she led me out.

We went back through more corridors and by that time I was starting to feel like the experienced man-about-town in the place. I could walk past a Drazi with barely a second look. This time around I noticed that we also came in for some looks and at first I thought that it was surprise at seeing the man they took for the captain walking along with the petite (that's a word drummed into me by Della) ambassador. That wasn't it. Then I thought that maybe it was envy on the part of the girls at not being escorted along by what was obviously the most chivalrous guy in the place (standards in some areas had fallen, if you ask me - a little gesture like that seemed to be enough to make you Valentino in this joint). That wasn't it, either. In the end I guessed that it wasn't surprising for folks to see Delenn taking a stroll with somebody named John Sheridan - it was the fact that we were attached that seemed to be the thing that got to people. Again - not surprise. If anything, a lot of them had that smug look people get when they've been proved right about something.

If nothing else, it gave me a fairly good idea about the state of affairs between Delenn and Sheridan.

Along with all the faces - and races - I didn't know, there was one that popped up at me that I did. Sort of.

'Oh, hey, Captain.'

Zack Allen grinned at me, wearing something that looked like green combat fatigues and it was about the only time I'd seen him that he didn't have a cigarette or a toothpick stuck in the corner of his mouth.

I nodded firmly. 'Hello, Zack.'

Delenn inclined her head graciously and smiled at him, still pulling me along. 'Zack.'

'Ambassador...' He trailed off and the last I saw of him he was staring at Delenn like he'd been struck comical; I'd seen the Zack I knew look like that before, so I didn't think much of it.

We hopped on an elevator and it turned out to be another thing that had a personality of its own - some girl's voice kept telling us what floor we were on. And God knows there were enough of them. The elevator told us with some pride that it had delivered us to the right address; I stepped off and thanked it. Delenn looked at me.

'What? It's only polite.'

'There is no-one to hear you. It is a computer, it is not a sentient being.'

'And won't you be sorry when it turns out that the thing has a mind of its own and overthrows the whole place.' I squeezed her arm. 'Never mind - if it happens, I'll hold it off while you talk it down.'

Her eyes crinkled. 'Thank-you.'

Our destination was a grey corridor with horizontal blue stripes and a door set into the wall that looked like it came from a submarine. There was a little box on the wall beside it. Delenn raised a hand and pressed a few buttons; she glanced at me and looked as close to embarrassed as I'd seen her. 'Captain Sheridan gave me his access code in case of emergencies.

I wondered just what sort of emergencies he had had in mind when he imparted that little nugget of information. The 'I needed to borrow a cup of sugar' emergency, maybe; or, more likely, the 'Oh, all my clothes seem to have fallen off' emergency. I guessed from the colour of Ambassador Delenn's cheeks that she had had the same idea but as she was a lady I kept my own ideas on the subject to myself.

She finished with the pad next to the door and the whole metal panel slid to one side in a rush of air. She smiled at me, I smiled back and held out a hand so that she'd go in ahead of me. I wouldn't usually let a woman walk in to somewhere unknown first, but this joint was unknown only to me, not to her, so it didn't count. We didn't even make it that far: before we could take a step, a small grey menace hurled itself through the door and at our feet.

It sniffed, it yapped, it looked like it was going to knock itself off its feet with joy. Archie sprung high enough to lick my hand and then aimed himself at Delenn. She shrank from him, backing against the opposite wall.

'What is it? Is it dangerous?' She stared at him as though she was too scared to stop staring at him in case he'd do something like eat her.

If Archie was here then Della had to be, too. Somewhere close-by - maybe even right through that door...

Archie's barks were getting that hysterical note in them and Delenn had pressed herself so tight against the wall there was nowhere left for her to go. It was the first time that Archie had ever managed to actually terrify anybody and he hadn't even been trying.

Just through that door...

I put an arm around Delenn, pulled her closer and tried to get her moving. She leant against me; she felt stiff and hard but her curves felt very familiar.

'He's not dangerous, just excitable,' I told her, words coming out fast. 'I think he's got you confused with someone else. Maybe we should go inside, huh?'

We got a couple of steps before Delenn stopped again, almost stumbling over the dog. Archie was pushing against her legs and looked up at her, peering through his fringe as though his myopic view of her would help. I guess she probably smelt a little like Della but not quite and it irked him. It irked me, come to that.

My choices seemed to be either picking her up and carrying her bodily into the place or ditching her and leaving her to fend for herself - if she hadn't looked so scared, I might have done it. Okay, maybe scared is the wrong word - she wasn't the type to scare that easily but Archie had given her a bad fright and she didn't like it one bit. And if I could just get her to put one foot in front of the other... I was getting desperate - my heart was trying to bust its way out of my chest. In the end I thought that distraction was the third and probably best course. I kept my arm around Delenn's shoulders as she seemed to need it and held out a hand to Archie, waving it like a lunatic. He sniffed at it, hit paydirt when he managed to identify me as one of his pack and immediately switched his attention to me; he reared up, put his paws on my leg and barked into my face. I scratched him behind the ears.

'Hey, Archie - where's Della, huh?'

'And you call yourself a detective.'

I straightened up. My wife had arranged herself in the doorway, one eyebrow arched expressively. The world stopped for a moment. She was breathtaking. She also wasn't our only audience - there was another character with a familiar face standing watching and I went out on a limb and guessed that he was the Captain John J. Sheridan whose quarters these were. He looked at me, looked at Delenn, and looked like he wanted to nail my head to the floor; as he had evidently been making my wife feel right at home in his digs I felt pretty much the same way about him, which put us on an even footing. I took the casual approach and ignored him.

Instead, I focussed on Della and managed to sound reasonably calm when I asked, 'Having fun there, plaything?'

'I'm having a riot. But not as much as you - you've obviously already found yourself a new toy.'

I disengaged myself from the lady ambassador and she headed straight for Captain Sheridan; his thousand-yard stare got transferred from me to her but then his face softened when he looked at her. The man had taste.

'Maybe we should move this party indoors,' I suggested.

'Please.' Captain Sheridan gestured briskly and we waltzed in ahead of him. As I passed I heard him ask Delenn, gruffly, 'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine, John. I-I was looking for you when I found Mr Sheridan in the garden...' Her voice was too low for me to hear anything else but I figured that they were both in pretty good hands by that point.

I jerked at Archie's leash. 'Come on, you. You know,' I added, 'if you kept that mutt under control I wouldn't have to keep rescuing menaced damsels.'

My own errant brunette smiled with a sweetness that spelled trouble with a capital 'T'. 'Personally, I think that you've trained him to menace damsels.' She looked at me. 'This is a crazy set up, John - but I'm glad you're here.'

I smiled at her lazily. 'Miss me?'

'Only when I try to throw things at your head.'

Her hand was hidden in the folds of her skirt but it brushed against mine; I took hold of it, our fingers laced together and she held onto me as hard as I held onto her.

'Hey, the gang's all here!'

Mike was in a chair, hands linked behind his head and grinning broadly like he was enjoying every second. A girl on the couch looked like Susan Ivanova but she was encased in some black number that made her look like someone bent on world domination - and she had the same taste in clothing as the captain. She inspected me more ruthlessly than Delenn had.

'Nice of you to drop by,' Mike added.

'Oh, I was in the neighbourhood.'

'Meet Commander Susan Ivanova.'

I smiled and held out my hand. 'Commander.' The title suited her - she looked like she could command ten platoons, no problem. She smiled tightly.

'Mr Sheridan.'

I deposited Della on the opposite end of the couch and Della immediately reclaimed the cigarette that was smouldering in a saucer and that she'd got someone to light for her - she must have done because in the entire time I'd known her I'd never actually seen her light one on her own. Maybe she'd smouldered at the captain and got him to do it. I sat beside her on the arm of the couch.

Sheridan came in with Delenn; her eyes drifted over Mike and then returned to him sharpish.

'This is Ambassador Delenn,' I announced, 'she's been kind enough to help me find my way here.'

Mike actually got himself to his feet for once.

'Hello - Mike Garibaldi. Welcome to the nuthouse.'

Delenn swallowed and took the hand he had extended to her. 'Mr Garibaldi.' He grinned at her and sat back down.

'And you've already met Della,' I said. 'Make nice, plaything,' I muttered to my wife.

They looked one another over, no claws showing - yet - and both murmured greetings.

Sheridan got Delenn settled and then stood looking over us. He would have said something but didn't get the chance - Mike beat him to it.

'Okay, now that you've decided to show up at last - what did you two do?'

Della and I looked at one another.

'What do you mean, what did we do?' I demanded. 'How are we getting the blame?'

He put his eyebrows up, pushed his hat to the back of his head. 'Are you kidding? Really? You? Wherever you two go, there's trouble. You're like trouble magnets. Even on your honeymoon, for God's sake-' He turned to Susan. 'You should get them to tell you about that sometime, 'cos ain't _that_ a story. Most people go away, lock themselves in their room for two weeks and maybe come up for air at mealtimes; but, oh no, not them... So. What did you do now?'

'We didn't do anything.' I said.

Della cleared her throat. 'Actually, as I understand it, it may have been a link between Commander Ivanova and our Susan that caused ... this ... little interlude.'

'Huh. You mean it's her fault?'

Della shrugged apologetically.

Mike sat back. 'Oh, well, that's different.' He grinned.

Well, that was new.

'It was not my fault! There was a power surge or something. John-'

Sheridan unground his teeth enough to say, 'What does it matter whose fault it is? I don't give a damn!'

'That's our shortstop!' Della said happily.

The captain looked at her, surprised, and then he laughed softly; she smiled back at him, like a kitten playing with a bow. I leant forward, getting her eye.

'Hi - remember me?'

She tilted her head back, her eyes narrowing. 'Uhh... It's on the tip of my tongue...'

It was going to be a long day.

_TBC_


	6. History Repeating

**ooOoo**

**History Repeating**

**ooOoo**

Michael Garibaldi wasn't quite whistling as he made his way along the corridor to Sheridan's quarters, but he was close to it. It was just one of those days when, for no real reason, he felt strangely upbeat. Maybe it was because the slurry that passed for breakfast had actually tasted like food that morning; maybe it was because a cheerful busker in Downbelow had been singing one of his favourite songs; maybe because it was just about time to feel that way.

He pressed the chime.

'_Who is it?_' The tone sounded harder than usual - Michael could feel his good mood starting to evaporate.

'It's me; you wanted to see me, you've been leaving messages all over the place.'

'_Come in_.'

The door swung open; Michael took a step forward, automatically scanned the inside of the room, took a step back and the door swung shut again. In the corridor he stood frozen. He had not just seen what he had just seen. It was impossible. He'd seen plenty of impossible things over the last few years, but _that_...

The door opened again and Sheridan looked at him wearily. 'Come in.'

'In there? Nu-uh. I'm going to MedLab and getting my head examined, maybe my eyesight checked, after that I'm lying down for a very long time.'

The captain sighed. 'You done?'

'I guess.'

'Come in.'

Michael followed him in, stayed near the door and took another look around. Delenn was sitting, straight-backed and serene, her hands folded in her lap. He barely noticed her. He barely noticed Susan.

'You must be the Michael Garibaldi we've heard so much about,' a voice that he knew all too well said. He turned his head slowly and found a man who could have been his own twin sitting in one of Sheridan's chairs, dressed in an old-fashioned suit. The stranger wearing his face looked him up and down. 'See, now that's the way to wear a uniform.' The last was addressed to the woman sitting on the couch and the man perched next to her. The man rolled his eyes good-naturedly; the woman glanced sideways at Captain Sheridan then up at the man beside her and one corner of her mouth turned up.

Michael could feel the muscles in his face slacken; his head rebelled against what his eyes were telling him. And the worst part, _the very worst part_, was that he knew who these people were. And their presence was an impossibility. He heard a voice coming out of his mouth, words fast and a little more high-pitched than usual. 'Did I get hit on the head again and just not realise? I'm unconscious - I'm unconscious, right? And this is a dream.'

'If it is, we're all having it,' Sheridan responded. 'I don't need to introduce you to anyone, do I?' He watched his friend's face and, despite himself, almost enjoyed the bewilderment there; if Michael hadn't had that damn dream in the first place and then told them all about it...

Michael leaned heavily against the door. 'Okay, okay, this is a trick. You've got some holographic things going on; and not that I don't appreciate the effort but first, your sense of humour could use some work and second, April Fool's was a while back.'

'Why does everyone keep trying to tell us that we're not real?' Della asked, plaintive.

'Mabe you should try poking him in the chest,' Mike suggested, 'that seemed to work; or you could try tying yourself to _him_ with the dog leash - that also seemed to work.' He grinned at her, she wrinkled her nose at him.

John's head swivelled sharply towards Sheridan - two spots of colour flared in the man's cheeks - and then tilted in his wife's direction. 'Excuse me?'

'Oh, it could have happened to anyone,' she said lightly, waving a hand.

'And yet it happened to you.'

Michael ran both his hands over his head. He hadn't been drinking, he reminded himself; if he had been that might explain everything, but he hadn't - he hadn't had a drink for a long, long time but right about now it seemed like a good idea to start again. 'This- You- How?'

'That's what we're trying to find out,' Sheridan said.

'But they're not real!' he hissed.

'Does he not know that we can hear him?' John asked mildly, glancing at his companions. Della raised her shoulders slightly, let them fall back and then frowned.

'Actually, I have a question.' She fixed her eyes on Michael for a moment then looked at Sheridan. 'Why does he not need to be introduced to us? He hasn't met us before.'

John looked down at her, smiled. 'Good question.'

'Well, I'm not married to a detective for nothing.'

Michael choked slightly, took a deep breath; the initial shock had worn off and while disbelief was still foremost in his mind, there was something else. Excitement, he realised. 'Look, okay, I had a dream, right? I got hit on the head, I was unconscious, I had this big long dream where I was in New York, I was a private detective - I'd been reading too much Raymond Chandler-'

'Hey, I like Raymond Chandler,' Mike put in, 'the bird knows what he's talking about. Marlowe's a stand-up guy but for the record, I'm better than him. I don't get beat up half so much-' John snorted, Mike ignored him '-and I have better luck with the dames.'

Another snort, this time with something muttered under John's breath.

'Ignore him,' Mike continued, jerking his thumb at his partner. 'Ever since he got hitched to that class act over there, he thinks he's everyone. No offence.'

'None taken,' Della replied, a hint of laughter under her words.

'Speak for yourself,' John added.

Della's smile faded abruptly, her frown returning. 'Wait a moment - what do you mean, you had a dream, Mr Garibaldi?' She looked at Sheridan accusingly. 'I thought it was _your_ dream.'

'It wasn't his dream, it was mine.'

'But that's how he knew who I was.'

'Yeah...' Mike narrowed his eyes, pointing at Sheridan, his finger wagging up and down. 'And when you thought that I was him you were surprised that I knew that those two tied the knot because you said you hadn't told anybody that.'

Michael stared at Sheridan. 'Back up - you had the same dream?'

'Not exactly,' Sheridan replied stiffly; the hand grasping the back of Delenn's chair had turned white at the knuckles under the pressure. He could sense her moving restlessly, her head turning as though she were trying to look at him without seeming to but he was a little too far back from her line of sight. Her hair brushed lightly against his fingers.

'Why didn't you say anything?' Michael continued. Sheridan looked uncomfortable, he thought; he was getting that tight look around his jaw and mouth that he got when he was in a corner he didn't want to be in.

'It wasn't worth mentioning.'

'Come on, what was it?'

'Nothing.'

'Hey, I told you mine-'

'Will you drop it?'

From his chair, Mike watched the scene unfold with interest, taking stock of all the players now that they were assembled. His own counterpart was a right guy, he decided; the kind you could rely on in a tight spot - much like himself. And he knew enough about men named Michael Garibaldi to sense that this one was starting to enjoy this situation. He turned his attention to Captain Sheridan and the woman who had been introduced as Delenn. And wasn't that a familiar sight, he thought. As soon as they had entered together, following on the heels of John and Della, he had seen it - that way of being together, of moving around one another. It had only lasted a moment - the captain had immediately turned his focus onto his guests - but it had been there, between him and Delenn: that same defect in vision that John and Della were afflicted with - the inability to see anything else in the world outside of each other.

While everyone else was distracted, he took the opportunity to catch Susan's eye. He leant forward. 'Hey, you've been holding out on me.'

She was incredulous. 'I'm sorry?'

'That's okay, you're forgiven - I'm not the type to hold a grudge.' He grinned at her; Susan turned in her seat, taking a clearer look at him.

'What are you talking about?'

'When I asked you if you had your own Della - you didn't tell me about her.' He raised his eyebrows, looking meaningfully at Delenn. 'How long have they been hitched?'

Susan glanced in the general direction of the two couples, puzzled. 'Who?'

'The captain and the dish who looks like she got crowned Miss America.'

Another glance, this time directly at that particular pairing. She stiffened, her shoulders bracing, her instinct to protect her two friends rising. 'You mean Ambassador Delenn.' Her words were formal, colder than she had sounded a moment before. 'They are not "hitched".'

His eyebrows went up. 'No fooling? Huh. But they're an item, right? I mean, they've got that whole, "I Only Have Eyes For You" thing going on. Any moment he'll be making like Dick Powell and get down on one knee.'

Susan stared ahead rigidly. 'I don't think it's any of my business - it's definitely not any of yours.'

Mike held his hands up. 'I didn't mean anything by it, I was just curious. I mean, I've got my two, you've got your two and I just wondered how much your two had on my two in that department but it sounds like your two know how to behave, which makes a nice change. See, John just used to side-step dames but then Della came along and tripped him up and he must have liked where he was 'cos he just stayed down.'

Susan's eyebrows had started climbing as he spoke; by the end she let out a breath of laughter. He seemed to like that: he smiled at her; not the annoying grin he used to get under people's skin but something softer. She felt herself smiling back.

The ongoing conversation on the other side of the room had risen in volume, Michael's words cutting through Susan's brief reverie.

'-steal some other guy's dream, the least you can do is tell the guy what it was about!'

'Enough!' Susan let out a shaky breath. They all stared at her. She smoothed a hand over her hair. 'Okay, this is how it is - I went down to the Great Machine, I was supposed to make contact with the First Ones; I didn't; somehow I ended up in New York and I found _them_; there was a power surge; and for some reason that we're still trying to figure out, these three got brought here. They're not dreams, they're not figments, they're not anything. Well, they're not not _anything_ - they're real people. And they're here - and the question is, what are we going to do about it?'

There was silence for a moment. Someone cleared their throat. John leant down to Della and murmured, 'I take it back, it wasn't a good question - it was you putting the cat among the pigeons.'

'Oh, can it, you two-bit rinky-dink,' she replied. He winked at her.

Michael found the last bit of unoccupied furniture, sat down heavily. He looked them over again: the two detectives - one rumpled, one immaculate - and the heiress with the sparkling eyes. He shook his head. 'Well, I'll be damned.'

'You're not the only one,' Sheridan commented.

'So what do we do?' Susan looked at her commanding officer. His eyes wandered over their gathering, lingering a little on Della and then found Susan again. He shook his head.

'I don't know.'

'Great. That's great.'

'Look, I'm open to ideas if anybody has one.' He looked at them, all of them, significantly. 'No? Yeah, I didn't think so.'

'It's not that bad,' Michael put in. 'I mean, considering some of the stuff we've been through lately this is a walk in the park.'

'A walk in the park? Are you kidding?' Susan's eyes flashed. 'In what way is this a walk in the park?'

Michael sat back, started to feel the tightness in his chest release. 'They're not trying to blow us up, take over the galaxy, lure us to our ultimate destruction - I'd say that in the scheme of things that's pretty good going for us.'

'Take over the galaxy?' Mike repeated. 'Say, just what have we walked into?'

'Dragged,' Della amended, 'we were definitely dragged, wouldn't you say?' She glanced at her husband and got no reply; she nudged him with her elbow. 'What are you looking at?'

'Huh? Oh... I was just thinking it's a pity that there's no window in here - you should see what's outside this place.'

'I've seen it - I was on a... a... Shuttle?' She looked hopefully at Sheridan; he nodded. 'A shuttle on up here - all the way through the stars.' Her face glowed.

He stared at her, wonder softening his face. 'What was that like?'

'It was...' Her gaze slipped past him for a moment. 'It was like John Gillespie Magee.'

Mike squinted at her. 'Huh?'

' "And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space, put out my hand, and touched the face of God",' John said softly.

Della smiled up at him. 'See? He knows.'

'Did you see the planet that's down there?' her husband continued. 'An honest to God planet?'

'See it?' She raised her eyebrows. 'I was on it!'

'On... Wait, you were actually down there?'

'Yes. It was... Oh, John, it was incredible!'

'Aw, nuts.'

They looked at Mike; he stared at Della accusingly. 'You had to say that didn't you? You couldn't say, "It was nice but no dice", or "It was okay, but it was no Atlantic City". No, not you. You have to go and tell him, "Oh, it was incredible". To him? You tell him this? Have you lost your mind?'

They turned from Mike back to one another. 'It was incredible. It was like a cross between Brueghel and Escher; and there was a man named Draal-'

John's eyebrows went up. 'Drahl?'

'Not Drahl,' said Mike, 'Draal.'

'Isn't that what I said?'

'You were putting too much H into it. Drahl. Draal. See?'

'Oh yeah, that cleared it right up. So, what does Draal do?'

'He...' Della trailed off, turned to look at Susan.

'Draal is the keeper of the Great Machine.' It was the first time that Delenn had spoken - her voice, low and arresting, drew them all to her. 'It is the centre of great knowledge and power.'

'So, he hangs around down on the planet and ... what?' Mike spread out his hands. 'Plays with machinery?'

Delenn held herself straight. 'The Great Machine is not something that is easily understood: it is a gateway to many places, many things; the full extent of its power is unknown to us; Draal is part of the Machine - it nurtures him, sustains him, and it is sustained by him in turn; it allows him to hear and see many things that occur across the galaxy.'

'So, he sorta keeps tabs on all the comings and goings around here?'

'I suppose that you could say that,' Delenn replied.

One corner of Mike's mouth curled. 'So, he's like a galactic butler down there?'

'A butler? I do not understand.'

'A butler; you know - the guy who opens doors, looks after the house, looks down his nose at people and makes you feel like you forgot to wash behind your ears. Just like our Drahl. Or, at least, their Drahl.

Sheridan choked a little; Delenn turned in her chair, looking at him as though she had expected better of him. 'That is not funny.'

'I- I'm sorry. But it is a little funny.' The captain tried to compose himself, offered her an apologetic smile.

Delenn was rigid, regarding Mike and his companions with dismay: did these people truly have so little respect for someone who obviously gave them great service? 'Draal's position is one of great dignity; he is not, as you put it, a butler.'

'There is nothing undignified about being a butler,' Della said hotly. 'Drahl has been a valued and trusted member of my-my _family_ for thirty years. He is respected by everyone who knows him and he takes enormous pride in his work. As well he should.'

Delenn sucked in a sharp breath; she seemed to shake herself. 'I-I am sorry; I did not mean to offend: for Minbari, to serve is the highest honour and-'

'No.' Della shook her head, her shoulders slumping. 'No, I'm sorry. That was unspeakably rude of me.'

The two looked at one another, a moment where two pairs of grey eyes met and held. Delenn inclined her head, her lips curving into a small, transitory smile.

'I think that we may have got off on the wrong foot,' Della added.

Delenn's forehead wrinkled. 'The wrong foot?'

'Yes.' She paused. 'I mean, we were talking at cross-purposes I think; it was just a misunderstanding.'

The other woman's face cleared. 'A misunderstanding - yes.'

And there had been plenty of those already, Della thought; she sat back in her seat, discreetly studied Delenn and concluded that it would be nice to get to know this strange counterpart of hers a little better. 'It was all Mike's fault, anyway.'

He widened his eyes at Della, his eyebrows going up. 'What did I do?'

'You opened your big yap once too often - again,' John told him.

'That hurts,' Mike said, putting one hand over his heart, 'that physically hurts.'

'Can it.'

'This isn't getting us anywhere.' Susan had lowered her head, pinching the bridge of her nose; she looked up now, once more taking stock of the rest of the room's inhabitants and wondering if she was the only one who felt so rattled by this. Michael's initial surprise had been replaced by a broad if somewhat bemused grin; Delenn had her habitual air of philosophical serenity; Sheridan was a little more on edge than usual but she had the feeling that even he was starting to enjoy this. Left to his own devices he'd be firing off a thousand questions at all of them, she was certain. And there was, it would seem, no-one who could be held accountable; no-one who could undo what had been done. 'How could getting a whack on the head make Michael dream what now appears to be a past life? How could me thinking about that for all of two seconds do-do _this_? It's crazy; none of it makes any sense.'

'The universe does not always make sense; its reasons cannot always be understood; it is not always wise to expect that it should.'

In her corner of the couch, Susan sagged; she looked at Delenn helplessly. 'So, what? You're saying we shouldn't question this, just accept it?'

Delenn's gaze at the younger woman was affectionate, almost indulgent. 'That is not what I meant. The questions should be asked, but they are questions that may never be answered - not to your satisfaction. _That_ is what you must accept.'

'That sounds a bit like faith,' Della said softly. All eyes turned to her; she sat straighter, talking but to no one person in particular. 'It isn't rational, it doesn't make any sense, but it's there; it's real; and it's strong.'

Delenn watched her. 'Faith manages.'

Della's head turned, meeting her counterpart's eyes again. 'Faith manages...' She smiled. 'I like that.'

Susan sighed heavily, propped her cheek on her hand; she sensed movement near her, turned her head and found Mike watching her again, his expression surprisingly sympathetic.

'Hey.' He leant across and briefly touched her arm. 'It's not all bad. We're actually good people to have around. Okay, _I'm_ good people - those two...' He tilted his hand one way, then the other. 'And don't get me started on the m-u-t-t.'

Archie raised his head from Della's feet and let out a sharp bark.

'It's your own fault,' Della said to Mike, 'he can understand every word.' She stroked the sleek grey head until he subsided again.

Susan let out a breath. 'Okay, we can't solve this right now, but we still have some practicalities to deal with - like, where do we put everyone?'

Sheridan nodded, feeling on somewhat safer ground himself in that regard. His quarters were generous by space station standards; but when occupied by seven adults - and one dog - they were starting to feel cramped. 'Agreed. I think our best option will be to organise some VIP suites for our ... guests. They're more secluded and more secure.'

'I don't think we're going to be able to hide this for very long,' Michael said, moving his eyes from the unexpected trio long enough to look at Sheridan. 'We don't know how long they'll be here - we can't expect them to stay in their rooms indefinitely.'

'What do you suggest?' Sheridan asked, deceptively mild. 'Parading them through the middle of the station?'

'No.' Michael tilted his head, his lips pressing out for a moment. 'But look - why should we try to hide them away anywhere? Nobody's done anything wrong; nobody's being put at risk because they're here and nobody will be just because they know about it. So some people get confused.' He shrugged. 'Big deal. Things around here confuse people all the time; I still get confused about how the computer works, but do you hear me complain? Don't answer that. Anyway, we can't keep 'em locked up just because somebody might ask some awkward questions. If anybody asks, just... Just say they're distant relatives. Who knows? That might even be true.'

'You hear that?' Mike asked, jerking his thumb at Michael. 'That's wisdom, you should listen to this bird; he's got moxy.'

'Thanks.'

Mike spread his hands, 'I just tell it like it is, brother.'

'Jack said I have moxy,' Della commented; she smiled faintly, her reminiscence evidently something pleasant.

'Baby, you have something a lot more important than that,' John told her.

'Oh?'

'Yeah. Money.'

She wrinkled her nose at him. 'Anyway, we simply can't stay cooped up indoors all of the time - for one thing, Archie needs to be walked. Oh my, Archie needs to be walked!'

The dog raised his head, gazed soulfully at his mistress and emitted a low whimper. Della started to gather his leash and assorted possessions.

'What- You mean now?' Sheridan stared at her.

'Yes, now! Unless you want him adding to your décor.'

John slid off the arm of the couch. 'Come on, plaything - there's a little garden around here somewhere.'

'There's more than a little garden, buddy, there's a whole park,' Mike added. 'It's got a maze - no fooling. And a fountain, just like in your lobby; you two will feel right at home. Did you know that this place is five miles long and has quarter of a million people on it? And when I say people I don't just mean people I also mean aliens. Can you call aliens people? Anyhow, there's a lot going on here. I'm talking too much, aren't I?'

'You are,' John said.

'I should shut up.'

'You should.'

'Okay.'

'Okay.'

They accommodated one another around the room: John wrapping his wife's furs around her and keeping her close-by, Mike adjusting the set of his hat to just the right angle.

Susan watched them for a moment, turned to Sheridan. He had that look, she thought resignedly; she recognised that look. Trouble always followed soon after. 'We're actually doing this, aren't we?'

Sheridan paused for a moment, let out a breath and then smiled at her. 'It looks like it.'

'Oh boy.' She uncrossed her legs and stood up. 'Do you want me to sort out the accommodation?'

'No, it's okay; I'll see to that. A few things will have to be moved around.'

'Right.'

Otherwise known as him taking the opportunity to get the whole lot of them out of his hair for a little while, Susan thought; the benefits of rank. It was the sort of task he usually delegated to her - now, no doubt, he'd be delegating to her the role of babysitter.

'If you could show our visitors to where they need to go?' Sheridan asked her pleasantly.

Susan smiled stiffly. 'Of course.'

'Oh,' Della finished smoothing her hair and looked at him, eyes wide, 'you're not coming with us?'

She was so like Delenn, Sheridan thought, and so unlike her. And that lovely face turned up to his was disconcerting to say the least. He cleared his throat. 'I, uh, I'm sure I'll catch you up.'

'Ambassador Delenn might be kind enough to perform guide duties again, if the commander has other duties,' John put in, his hold on his wife's arm a little firmer than it had been a moment before. 'The garden I mentioned was where she found me.'

Della's eyes regarded her husband cynically from under slightly lowered lashes. 'By all means; the more the merrier.'

Sheridan turned his gaze on Delenn; she inclined her head to John, rising smoothly. Her cheeks looked warmer than usual.

Michael pushed himself to his feet and found himself next to Mike; the man had both hands plunged into his pockets and was watching the scene like a spectator at a boxing match. Michael kept his voice low and jerked his head in the direction of the two couples. 'You sense trouble brewing?'

Mike grinned at him. 'Buddy, you have no idea.'


	7. I Only Have Eyes For You

**ooOoo**

**I Only Have Eyes For You**

**ooOoo**

Their guests had been suitably impressed by the expanse of greenery on show in the station's hub. Della had allowed Archie off his leash and the schnauzer had made straight for the shrubbery, happily pawing at earth and marking every stationary object that he came into contact with. His progress was watched with surprise and some evident affection by various humans who spotted him.

'There are no other animals here,' Susan explained to his owners. Della rolled her eyes.

'King of his very own domain - there'll be no living with him when we get home.'

When... Someone was optimistic, Susan thought.

The dog steered clear of the aliens, she noticed: wide circles around any he encountered, although, he did venture the occasional bark - but only from the safety between John and Della's legs. The aliens themselves eyed Archie with interest - some with a little more than interest. By the end of the day, the commander reckoned, one or other group of them may well have kidnapped the dog with a view to either eating him, sacrificing him, or worshipping him as a god. Or even all three.

John and Della strolled arm in arm, seemingly oblivious to any heads that were turned in their direction. Delenn walked beside Susan, watching the couple slightly ahead of them on the path; she was unusually subdued. It was strange for all of them to see these people - not to mention Mike Garibaldi - but what must it be like for Delenn? The relationship between the Minbari ambassador and the captain was one of those strange things: something that just about everybody knew of but that people rarely mentioned. Of their feelings for one another there was no doubt; but what stage they had reached, Susan did not know and wasn't sure she wanted to. It was none of her business, she reminded herself, none of her business. And yet... They had been dancing around each other lately. Susan glanced again at Delenn, noticed the expression on the other woman's face as she watched John brush a lock of hair from his wife's neck and Della lean into him more. She looked... Wistful. On anyone else, Susan would have called it envy.

None of her business. But even if it had been - how would she talk to either of them? For someone as outgoing and open as the captain, he was surprisingly defensive about his personal life; and as for Delenn... Susan wouldn't even know where to begin with her.

Behind them, the Garibaldi twins had kept up a steady flow of chatter. No rivalry issues there, she thought wryly, just instant kinship. Maybe because they weren't vying over two different versions of the same woman. She wondered how things stood between Mike and his version of herself. Not romantic, of that she was certain - somehow. It was strange: in all the time she'd known Michael she had never thought of him in that way, not once; but now, with this newcomer... She shook herself and cleared her throat.

'It must be strange for you, seeing them - Mr and Mrs Sheridan, I mean,' Susan said. 'A bit like seeing double.'

'Yes,' Delenn replied vaguely.

'I think that Mrs Sheridan - Della - was much better after we found her husband; well, after you brought him to the captain's quarters.'

'Yes.'

'She seemed relieved.'

'Yes, I suppose; I did not see her before.'

Now just what did that mean? Susan wondered, she moistened her lips. 'Are you all right?'

Delenn turned her head, regarding her friend with a little surprise. 'Yes, I am fine; are you all right?'

'Me? Yes, yes, I'm okay.'

'Good.'

'Uh-huh.'

That had gone well, Susan reflected bleakly. Mike's voice broke through, suddenly a little louder than before.

'So, we bust in, and there's this chippy up on the stage with nothing on except for a snake - I swear to God - a _snake_ wrapped around her-' He stopped as Susan rounded on them; he laughed weakly. 'Hey, you could hear that, huh?'

'I think that the whole park could hear that,' she replied, 'maybe even the entire station.'

Mike looked at her admiringly - there were few women who genuinely looked good in a temper but Susan Ivanova was one of them. Maybe it was the uniform, he thought philosophically. She quickened her pace, following Delenn who was wandering towards John and Della.

'Is she ... uh ... seeing anyone?' he asked, studied casualness.

Michael looked at his counterpart, looked across at Susan's retreating figure and then looked back. 'Well, you know, every time she opens her eyes she sees someone-'

'Hey, wiseacre, knock it off - I invented that stuff, remember?'

Michael grinned at him. 'As far as I know, no she's not.'

'Uh-huh.' A pause. 'So, what's your action like?'

'Ah, well, you know, love 'em and leave 'em; so many women, so little time...'

'Not hooked up either, huh?'

'No, not so much. And, man, it blows.'

Mike blew out a breath. 'It does that, brother, it does that.'

Susan caught up with her quarry in front of a rolling sphere fountain. Jets of water suspended a large granite ball, just lifting it off the pedestal over which the water then cascaded. It could be easily turned with one hand, Delenn told them, despite its great weight, demonstrating as she spoke.

'It shows that even the most daunting of tasks can be accomplished with the right amount of force applied in the right way at the right time,' she concluded, shaking the water droplets from her fingers. A figure moved on the periphery of her vision and she turned her head automatically, her chest tightening – as it always did – when she recognised Captain Sheridan. He smiled at her and for a moment the world fell away and it was just the two of them.

'I'd thought you'd all still be here,' he said as he reached her.

'Yes...'

His face was still warm but his gaze had slipped past her, resting on Della. That lady smiled in response and Delenn felt her own fading.

'Hello again,' Della said.

'Hello. I've arranged your quarters – they're in the same section as the command staff, so you're secure. Gari- Your Mr Garibaldi's room is next to yours, with a connecting door.'

'I hope it locks,' she replied.

'It does, don't worry.'

'I-' She broke off, tugged at Archie's leash. 'Don't drink the fountain water – it's impolite. Honestly, I think you left your manners at home today.'

Delenn wandered a little way from the group; Susan had attempted to engage her in conversation but she had been too distracted to really hear what Susan was saying. She attempted to analyse her feelings and felt inadequate to the task. Her eyes wandered back to Sheridan and Della; it seemed so unfair – the easiness between herself and Sheridan had taken so long, had been earned through shared hardships and joys and confidences... How could he fall into something comparable with this other woman so easily? Or was it Della's Humanness that he responded to? Would he, after all, be happier with someone more like himself? More like _her_.

'I guess you're not that sent on plants either, huh?'

Delenn started, looked up at the familiar face and reminded herself that this was the other John Sheridan.

'I am sorry – were you speaking to me?'

'Yes, I was. Those two-' he jerked a thumb over in the direction of Sheridan and Della '-are discussing all things green and leafy. He's reading her the names off the signs. It's in Inter-something; she can't read it.'

'Interlac. It was an attempt at a universal language - it has not proven very useful except in traffic control and tourism.'

He laughed. 'Yeah – no-one's ever managed to say anything witty in Esperanto, either.'

Delenn looked at him, puzzled, repeated the word carefully. 'Esperanto... This is a Human language?'

'It's the same sort of idea as ... Interlac? Interlac. Hasn't really caught on – everybody just prefers their own languages, I guess.'

'I see.' Delenn pulled at a loose thread on her cuff, laced her fingers together. 'Are you not interested in plants?'

'Not really. Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against them – just never had much use for them. Okay, that's not strictly true: easiest way to get a girl to smile is give her a bunch of flowers. Della has a greenhouse on one floor of the house … it was her father's actually.' He indicated the seat next to them. 'Want to wait them out with me?'

She smiled as she sat down, arranging her robes with more than a little self-consciousness. 'I would be happy to wait with you. It would appear that Susan is working.' She nodded towards the commander, who was speaking rapidly into her link.

John watched with interest. 'Is there anything around here that can't talk back to you?'

Delenn's lips twitched. 'There are one or two objects.'

'Thank God for that.' He paused. 'I guess we must be eating into your daily routines. It is good of you to take us around like this – all of you.'

'It is no trouble.'

'You know, where I come from people always say that when it is some trouble.'

'But I do not come from where you come from,' she replied.

He looked her over again. 'No, I guess not.' The straight, graceful posture; the hands neatly joined; the curving lines of the neck up to the face... Delenn was so like Della, but so much more ... reserved. Almost a little austere; and he remembered Della when he had first met her. Playful, yes, but more often serious; she was still serious at times but now that she was no longer responsible for Maya, and without Duke Greybourne and Leonard breathing down her neck every five minutes, Della had come into her own. She laughed a great deal more these days – although, he wasn't certain that it was necessary for her to laugh quite so much at this particular moment. Sheridan had hold of her arm, guiding her along a path and pointing out flowers that looked big, bright and exotic. John looked at Delenn and saw that she, too, was watching the pair. She turned to him suddenly, her cheeks flushing, and continued their conversation.

'I had a free afternoon today. It is rare, and a fortunate coincidence.'

'Fortunate for us, I would say.' He leaned closer and said, 'This must be difficult for you-'

Delenn broke in, her voice edgy, 'Why does everyone keep saying that? This is no more difficult for me than it is for Susan, or for Michael…'

'Or Captain Sheridan?' John looked over with a frown. 'It doesn't look like much of a burden for him, does it?'

Her answer was defensive. 'It is good for him to have a distraction. He has much on his mind, and-' Delenn paused. 'We all have much on our minds.' It would be so easy to talk to him - this stranger who bore Sheridan's face; as easy, perhaps, as the captain seemed to find it talking to Della... Boundaries that had always seemed so easy to understand were blurring.

John saw her withdrawal, the way her face closed down; it was subtle, not something that would be easily noticeable to anyone who didn't know her. And he did know her - or at least a part of her. 'The war,' he said.

She turned to him, not wholly surprised by his understanding. 'Yes. The war.' Her voice was low, little more than a whisper. 'I am tired of war.'

'I know that feeling.'

Delenn looked at him; he was staring into the distance, his eyes seeing things that were not there. And not happy things. His face looked harder, suddenly, older; and he looked like the soldier he had told her he had once been. He looked more like Sheridan.

'It was bad? Your war?' she asked softly.

'It was hell. All wars are hell.' He roused himself, facing her again. 'Do women fight in wars now? Commander Ivanova doesn't seem to be just auxiliary.'

'Yes, Human women serve their military as do the men.'

'Huh.' He wasn't sure how he felt about that but concluded it was none of his business. 'And for Minbari? How does it work for you?'

'Our people are divided into three castes. There is the Warrior Caste, and there are female warriors.'

He studied her – the profile both strong and delicate and the flowing silks that both concealed and enhanced her figure. She didn't look like any warrior he had ever seen. 'Which caste are you? I can't imagine you fighting in a war, but from some of the things you've said you sound as if you're directly involved.'

She was solemn. 'I am Religious Caste, yet I have been in battle - even commanded a warship. And I am the representative of my people in this conflict … at least, of some of them.'

'That doesn't sound good. I thought it was always best if there's a united front.' Or at least the presentation of a united front, he thought; even when they were on the same side, allies couldn't always agree. He cleared his throat. 'It doesn't sound like this is the first war you've been involved in.'

His bluntness took her breath away; Delenn reminded herself that this man had no knowledge of recent history – of her. Were all Sheridan men so perceptive? she wondered. 'There was another war, that is true.' Drawing a deep breath, she continued, 'My people went to war against yours, not so very long ago.'

'Hmph.' He looked at her shrewdly; not too long ago his world had been at war and all with one another. There were some scars from that which he thought might never heal. 'That must complicate things. Who won?'

'No-one. We withdrew from battle, voluntarily. The war did not last very long … but there was a great deal of damage, a great deal of death.' She steeled herself for his reaction to her revelation.

'You know what they say - all's fair in love and war,' he answered lightly, taking a moment to glance over at his wife and the captain. 'You know, that dream story he and your Mike Garibaldi put out was pretty strange - I don't get that at all.'

'I do not understand either. Perhaps it was the universe's way of letting them know what was coming … that you were coming.'

'Maybe. Wish it had given us a head's up at the same time - just to even things out. But I guess that this is one of those things that Della would say is sent to test us.' He tilted his head back, looking down at her with curiosity. 'Say, you didn't dream about me, did you? 'Cos I'd want to hear about it if you did.'

She shook her head, her smile enigmatic. 'I did not; but I am sure it would have been a very pleasant dream.'

He raised his eyebrows at her. 'I am going to take that as a compliment, Madam Ambassador.'

Her lips curved. 'I believe that we had agreed that you would call me Delenn.'

His smile was warm and lazy. 'We had at that.'

While their counterparts remained on the bench, Sheridan and Della continued following their path through the gardens. Della held the captain's arm, trying to stop herself from sinking into grass in heels that had never been designed for outdoor activities – it was only Sheridan's hold on her that had already prevented one undignified tumble. He was a charming companion – a charm that she was all too familiar with and to which she responded despite herself. She had never been much of a flirt. Her sister had always informed her, with some disgust, that she didn't know how to flirt. And then John had come along and it had been as though someone had flicked a switch inside her. And whether she wanted to or not, she found herself replicating the easy rhythms of conversation she had learnt from her husband. The captain did not seem to mind. His attention to her had gone beyond merely translating signage – he pointed out things that he thought might interest her. Please her. And he was correct in his deductions – although, she wondered just how much attention he would have paid her had hers been a different face. Della investigated the blooms he had pointed out to her – tiny, star-like things that he told came from somewhere he called the Drazi Homeworld. They were beautiful, perfectly formed and she wondered, with a wave of nostalgia tinged with sadness, what her father would have thought of them. He had died far too young.

Sheridan was wholly aware of the young woman on his arm; but even as he chatted to her, enjoyed the light pleasantries and banter that seemed to come so easily, his attention kept getting pulled back to Delenn and the man sitting beside her. He was far too close to her, and his behavior far too familiar for a Minbari of Delenn's rank. What got to him more than anything was that she didn't seem to mind. He'd seen her diplomatically shrug off any number of inopportune envoys, detach herself, smiling, from pushy ambassadors, and move among crowds like a solitary queen in a court full of knaves. But with this man, this _stranger_... She seemed to gravitate towards him. Della was captivating, and he was giving as good as he got, flirtation-wise, but still he kept looking over to see what that other Sheridan was up to with Delenn.

It had been a long time, he realised, since he had been this free and easy with a woman. Not since Anna. Losing her had changed him, but that was not the only reason. All the complications and difficulties that lay between himself and Delenn... It had not helped that for the first few weeks – no, months – of their acquaintance he had always been so awkward, so tongue-tied around her. Their conversations had been restricted to formal civilities and talk of business. It had been Delenn who had first initiated anything more meaningful, more personal. And he did find her easy to talk to; in some ways, he could open himself to her, talk to her, in a way that he had never been able to with anyone else. Not even Anna. Thoughts of Delenn had preoccupied him more and more over the past two years until it seemed that everything was bound up in her.

'How long have you known Ambassador Delenn?'

The voice seemed to have broken into his thoughts, and he stared at Della for a moment in astonishment. 'What did you say?'

'How long? Have you known her long, I asked.' Della's grey eyes reflected the light like mirrors; they had been warm and sparkling only seconds ago – now they were impenetrable. 'John and I have been married a little over a year – we've known one another less than two; but when we met, it seemed like I'd always know him.' She paused for a moment and colour crept across her cheeks. 'I'm sorry - you must think me terribly forward.'

Sheridan's eyes crinkled in amusement; he'd never heard a person in real life actually use that description. She was an old-fashioned girl in the most literal sense. 'I wouldn't have said forward,' he replied, 'headstrong is the word that came to mind.'

'Oh, I've been called a headstrong woman before. But Mike says that as I'm a _rich_ headstrong woman, that's all right.' She tilted her head, looking at him along narrowed eyes. 'So, to get back to my original question - how long has it been?'

Sheridan couldn't stop staring at her, mesmerised, like a mouse confronted with a playful kitten. 'Uh, well, almost two years, I guess.'

'You guess?' She laughed; it was a brilliant tinkling sound, like ice hitting the bottom of a glass. 'I must confess, I'm astonished: I was certain that you'd have been able to name the day down to the very hour.'

Parrying seemed pointless; he smiled down at her, leaned over to whisper in her ear, 'I probably could at that.'

Della tilted her head to one side, studied him and then smiled; she tucked her arm more firmly into his. They walked on down the pathway. 'I've seen other Minbari now, in the corridors, even here in the garden. I was wondering why the ambassador looks so different from the others. Are there different races on her planet? or even different species?'

Sheridan looked over at Delenn involuntarily, trying to decide how much of this he should discuss. Her transformation was hardly a secret but he was aware, or he tried to be, of what it had cost her. Discussing it, even with this woman, felt almost disloyal.

'She … changed. It was just before I got the assignment to come here. I didn't get to meet her for a few weeks after I arrived; she was in a cocoon…'

Della stared at him, her eyes wide; she raked his face for any sign of humour; finding none she shivered involuntarily. Her skin prickled. 'A-a cocoon?'

'It was a machine that spun a web of some kind. I never really saw it properly.' He remembered that fleeting glimpse before Lennier had barred the way of prying, unwelcome eyes. 'Anyway, it made her part Human, part Minbari.'

'Why?'

It was a simple question, but it took him back to that very first moment: the small, graceful figure all in white that held his attention before anything had even happened. He still remembered it, that thrill like electricity crackling under his skin and then the hood had been pulled away from her face... She had looked into his eyes and it had been like seeing someone he'd known in the past, and hadn't seen for a long time. It had been like coming home. 'It was a prophecy, an attempt to understand us - Humans, that is. To build a bridge between our races. The Minbari have a complex view of the universe, and a long involved history. They believe that there are signs and portents all around us and they follow them. Delenn was fulfilling a prophecy.'

'It must have been very difficult for her,' Della said thoughtfully. 'To change all that you are like that; everything would be different, strange, foreign…'

He looked at her. 'A little like what you all are going through now.'

She shook her head, decisive. 'Not nearly the same: we have each other. From what you say, she had no-one.'

Sheridan looked at Della, then over at Delenn, who was laughing easily with his twin. 'She has me.'

He said it quietly, a reflection meant only for himself - but Della heard and smiled. She looked over their surroundings – the gardens, just like any other gardens; the trains passing by high overhead; and then the great expanse of what lay beyond... She sighed.

'This is a truly remarkable place'.

'It is,' Sheridan agreed, 'and a one-way ticket to a nervous breakdown.'

Della laughed lightly. 'Let me guess – trade negotiations, unions, wage disputes...'

He frowned. 'You don't happen to run a prototype space station back home, do you?'

'No, but- Well, when my father died I was left in charge of his various companies. They come under the umbrella corporation of Ramir Industries. I don't really have much to do with the day-to-day running of things, but there are contracts and stockholders and a seemingly unending supply of people who want to make their problems your problems...'

Sheridan squeezed her arm. 'You know, if you decide to stay on here I might very well retain you as station manager.'

'Oh no,' Della shook her head, 'not that; anything but that!'

They laughed.

'But it is beautiful. All this, I mean.' She gestured at the gardens.

'Yes. It makes it easy to forget what's happening outside.'

There was a different note in his voice then; he had never seemed entirely carefree, even when he had been laughing, but now he seemed very removed from this peaceful interlude. She knew his face and she knew the look on his face; she had seen that look before, on a night when too many bad memories had come flooding back.

'What is happening outside?'

He let out a breath. 'We're at war.'

'Oh. There isn't really much you can say to that. I'm sorry.'

'So am I. So are we all.'

'Yes. It's funny: all the things we're told about what the future will be – how perfect, how all of the problems will be solved – but it never really changes, does it? I was born just after one war - the one they said was the war to end all wars. That peace lasted for twenty-one years and then the whole world was on fire again.'

Sheridan turned to her, his steps slowing; Della was still looking ahead, her mouth set. That war had always been an abstract - historical lessons or reference points for his own moral dilemmas. But this woman had lived it, lived through it.

'I didn't even think of that,' he said, apologetic, 'for us it's so long ago now.'

'Yes, I suppose it must be.' Della was silent for a moment, then, 'Maybe it really is just the same war fought over and over again.'

'How do you mean?'

'Oh... I mean that all conflicts are the same fight, it's just the names and the faces that change. You can take the Middle Ages as an example - the King on one side and the Church on the other; the pragmatists against the idealists. Neither one side is completely right nor completely wrong, and they both do terrible, terrible things to gain more power. For the most part, the best thing that ordinary people can do is just sit back and let them get on with it; but every now and then, one side or the other decides to blow up the whole world just so that they can get their own way - and then you can't just sit back anymore; you have to pick a side.'

Sheridan studied her face for a moment and wondered if wisdom always went with those particular grey eyes. 'Yeah, that sounds pretty familiar.'

'Yes...' She tilted her head, her lips curving again in a smile that seemed amused. 'John told me that story.'

He looked at her.

'He was a captain in the army - during our last war.' Della released his arm, drifting a few paces ahead of him.

Sheridan glanced back at the figure on the bench; he was saying something to Delenn, his face close to hers. She was laughing. He ignored the tightness in his chest, turned back and found Della, her arms folded, watching him speculatively.

'I have to ask... That dream you said you had - what was it about?'

He lifted his chin. Me and my big mouth, he thought miserably. 'It wasn't anything.'

'Now, that's a lie right there. You may as well just tell me, you know; I'm very stubborn and I am also extremely persistent; I will just keep asking you until you tell me and as we're on our own over here it might be easier to have it out here. Oh dear, that makes me sound like a dentist...'

'Look, Mrs Sheridan-' He said the name with effort. Mrs Sheridan had only ever been either his mother or Anna; and now to give that name to that face... Not that he hadn't thought about it before this...

'Please, call me Della. "Mrs Sheridan" from you just sounds wrong.'

He released a breath. 'Della.'

The reward was a dazzling smile.

'If I dream about you, I'll tell you,' she said, tantalising, a world of promise in her rich musical voice.

'You won't be here that long,' Sheridan replied firmly.

'How about I go and have a nap right now and see what happens?'

He laughed, shook his head. 'It really wasn't that big a deal.'

'Hmm...' Her eyes narrowed. 'It was after we were married, obviously... Was it like watching a film or was it in the first person?'

'I-' His shoulders sagged. 'First person.'

'Fascinating.'

The playful kitten had grown into a predatory cat - oh, for a hole to hide in...

'And where-'

'A train.'

'A train... I thought it would be easier than this,' she grumbled, 'we've been on lots of trains. You're no help whatsoever.'

He looked a little past her head. 'It was a train coming back from Nevada, okay?'

'Oh... Oh!' Her eyes went wide, cheeks flaring scarlet.

'No!' He felt his own face burn. 'Nothing hap- It was over very fast- I didn't mean that; not like that. The dream was over very fast and there was still plenty of distance between...'

Della had bitten her lips, first the lower, then the upper, but she couldn't hold it back. The laughter swept through until her eyes watered.

'I'm sorry,' she gasped eventually, 'I'm sorry ... It's... Nervous reaction...'

Sheridan watched her for a moment until his own chuckles blended with her tinkling peals.

'Yeah, well... I'm sorry.'

'Don't be.' Della wiped her face with her fingers; her lips still twitched. 'It's rather flattering, really: that's the first time I've ever been quite literally the woman of a man's dreams.'

He was reproachful. 'That isn't funny.'

'Yes it is.'

A sharp bark pierced the air, drawing their attention. Della sighed, her head turning towards the source. 'Never a dull moment.'

Susan had found a seat on an unoccupied bench and took the opportunity to close her eyes for a few moments, easing the growing tension across her head. The phrase, 'careful what you wish for,' flitted through her mind. She had wished for an easier life...

This was certainly not it.

Something bumped against her leg; she opened her eyes, looked down sharply and found Archie gazing up at her, his tail wagging with vague hopefulness.

'What?'

He sat down for a moment, scratched his ear vigourously with his hind leg then stood and peered over his shoulder at the two couples. Delenn and John were still chatting amicably on their bench; Della and the captain had finally stopped their perambulations and were facing each other. He looked more confused than anything else.

'Can't work out how they've doubled up, huh?'

Archie sneezed emphatically.

'Me either.' Great, she thought, now I'm trying to read the mind of a dog; and talking to him like he can understand. Della must be rubbing off on me... Susan put her head in her hands.

Archie watched his new friend, nonplussed at her apparent distress; he put his front paws on her knee and licked her hand. Susan looked at him in surprise; he whined softly.

'You're friendly enough, aren't you?' She ran a hand over his head, playing with the silky grey ears.

'It's a pity you're not a sheepdog,' she continued; Archie made a low rumble deep in his chest. 'You don't feel like doing me a favour, do you? Rounding them up and putting them back in their proper pairings?'

He stared at her, shining black eyes round under the ruff of grey fur; the schnauzer barked at her sharply and took off, galloping towards his mistress. Susan stood to start after him, then stopped. He had already reached one mismatched pair: he pushed at Della's legs, coming just within her reach before diving under her hand and running from her each time she tried make a grab for his collar. He was leading her away from Sheridan just as surely as he had led her to him to begin with. Once the pair was moving with no signs of stopping he changed tactics, heading directly for John and the ambassador like a small furry cannonball.

He leapt at them, ignoring John's increasingly loud admonitions; Delenn stood, retreated immediately - directly into Sheridan's path.

There was more going in that little grey head than she had thought; Susan watched Archie's progress with bemusement and some admiration. 'They should have called you Lassie,' she murmured aloud.

'What's going on?' Two voices spoke simultaneously, blended into one.

Susan started, had the disconcerting experience of finding a Garibaldi either side of her.

'They seem to be playing on the right teams anyway,' Michael added.

Mike nodded. 'I didn't picture either of mine as switch-hitters.'

Susan swallowed a smile. 'It was a near thing there for a minute.' Sheridan had remained with Delenn, her hand now resting lightly on his arm. He hadn't taken his eyes off her face. Across from them, at the edge of the gardens, John stood with his wife; Archie – treating himself to a well-earned rest after his efforts – lay at their feet. Susan shook her head. 'This situation is like a ticking time bomb, but it looks there's no "Boom" today.'

'That's a good thing, huh?' Mike asked.

'A very good thing,' Michael told him.

The detective nodded sagely then looked beyond Susan, squinting at the doorway where John and Della were standing.

'Isn't that market thing through there? The one with all the bars?'

Susan glanced back. 'The Zocalo - yes.'

'In that case, why don't I buy you a drink? You look like you could do with one.'

The man had a nerve. 'I'm on duty.'

'Okay - then you can buy me a drink.' His eyes crinkled and against her better judgment, Susan found herself softening.

Michael watched the exchange with bemusement: watching himself flirt - if it could be called that - with Susan Ivanova was an unsettling experience. He cleared his throat. 'Y'know, I'll think that I'll just be over there for a while.' He gesture vaguely in Sheridan's direction and ignored the voice, conveniently, that informed him that he would be no less of an intruder in that set-up.

'I think it's time we all moved on.' Susan's words were clipped, her spine straightening.

Close but no cigar, Mike thought. There was always later; maybe when she was off duty... He ambled after her, Michael keeping pace with him. The good captain was still talking to the good-looking ambassador, he noticed; he wondered if anything short of the whole operation caving in around their ears would distract them.

'Just what is the deal with him and Miss America, anyhow?' Mike asked.

'Huh? Who?'

Mike looked at the couple meaningfully - they had started to move, still focussed on one another, but slowly following a path that would take them to their visiting counterparts.

'I think it's supposed to be true love,' Michael replied after a while, 'but we're all waiting on the confirmation. We've been waiting for the best part of a year, if you must know; there's been a book running on 'em since February and I've already lost sixty credits on it mainly down to Ivanova and her timing - or lack of it, depending on whose side you're on. I think she did it on purpose.'

'What did she do - prise them apart?'

'I don't know exactly - she gets kinda defensive about this stuff - but she put a call through to Sheridan and I guess she interrupted a crucial moment.'

That had never stopped his pair, Mike reflected. They had reached his pair by that point; John and Della put a few more inches between themselves than there had been when they'd been on their own.

'So, where to now?' John asked.

'I say we keep going in a straight line,' Mike said, his hand slicing through the air in the direction of the doorway; he stood aside to let Susan pass through before him. As far as actions went it was, in John's opinion, an unprecedented one. He eyed his friend critically as they followed their guide into the Zocalo.

'That's pretty fast work, isn't it?'

'What is?'

He looked at Susan pointedly. 'You and the commander.'

Mike grinned infuriatingly. 'I'm just taking a leaf out of your book, buddy.'

'You-'

'Now, now, boys, play nicely,' Della said, readjusting her wrap. She looked around the place and sighed. 'Say, doesn't anybody want a drink?'

Her husband looked at her. 'What do you think?' He started to reach for his wallet when Mike stopped him.

'Put it away, brother; I already tried that earlier - no dice. These people have something against good honest lettuce. It looks like you two will have to get used to singing for your supper like the rest of us stiffs.'

Della's mouth curved; she leant against John's shoulder. 'Looks like you'll be needing that banjo after all.'

'We did always plan on making that trip,' he replied, smiling.

Mike squinted at them. 'Huh? Actually, don't bother - anything you say will just make it worse.'

'Is there a problem?' Susan had gone some paces before she realised that her group was missing; she retraced her steps back to where the trio was standing.

'No, no problem,' John answered, eyes wandering over the crowds until he found what he wanted. 'Boys and girls, I think we've found a likely looking place.'

Mike followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. 'You mean the joint with the character with the greasy eyes and a face like a bucket of mud?'

'Uh-huh.' He put his arm around Della's waist, took Archie's leash from her hand. 'Plaything, I think it's time for you to go and do that thing that you do so well.'

She tilted her head at him, grey eyes sparkling, and eased herself out of his embrace.

'There she goes,' Mike commented.

'What is she doing?' Sheridan had joined them, Delenn still at his side. They all watched the figure swaying across the walkway. A lot of people watched her, including the greasy-eyed barkeep when he noticed her approach.

'Him stationary moth, her moving flame,' Mike continued. 'Is she putting some extra sway into her hips? 'Cos it's not like she was exactly lacking any bef-'

'Hey!'

John scowled at him and he sniggered.

Della reached the bar, fixing her gaze on its tender and then smiled; she unhooked the heavy bracelet from one wrist. 'Hello. I was wondering if it would be possible for my friends and I to get some drinks in exchange for this?'

She let it swing between her fingers like a hypnotist's pendant and his eyes followed its progress. He licked his lips and in a strangled voice said, 'Lady, for that you can have the whole damn bar.'

Della smiled again, graciously. 'That's very sweet of you, but all we want is the liquor.'

'Hey!' Mike's uncouth hail caught her attention. Della turned and he gestured at their hosts. 'These four aren't drinking - no point in letting good corn go to waste.'

'It won't,' Della called back, 'any alcohol that doesn't go into theirs can go into ours.'

'Y'know,' Mike confided to John, 'it's moments like this I can see why you married that girl.' He paused, then added, 'She really is something, isn't she?'

'Mm. Do me a favour - if you ever figure out what that something is, will you let me know?' John clapped his friend on the shoulder, crossed the walkway to join Della at the bar.

_TBC_


	8. Let's Do It

**ooOoo**

**Let's Do It**

**ooOoo**

It was, at times, still like living through a dream. Delenn looked at her companions arranged around the cluster of small tables and again had that sense of dislocation she had experienced earlier - when she had met John and again when she had seen Della. That had been the moment when she had, truly, felt the breath knocked out of her. The photograph that John had shown her had been strange enough - the face so familiar but so altered - but then to actually see the woman in the flesh... And she was overwhelming. The ready laughter, the bright eyes - and the ability to command attention, apparently without even trying. Delenn was aware of her own skill in leadership, her own charisma, but wondered if it seemed as effortless to others as Della's did to her.

Delenn took a sip of her drink - a cool, fragrant juice - and watched them, attempting to assess the manner of the relationship between this John Sheridan and his wife; she had believed, at first, that Della had been unconcerned over whether she was reunited with her husband or not. John himself had puzzled her: his distress over his situation, his concern for his wife, had been evident - until he had found her. But Minbari were always taught to disregard the superficial and the obvious - it was only by looking deeper that the truth could be seen; all the unspoken things were far more revealing than what was stated.

She filtered out the conversation, watched this strange couple, and in doing so began to hear, clearly, the melody that their actions played. They were so _aware_ of one another; every slight movement by one was mirrored in the other, almost as though they were linked by an invisible cord. It wasn't that John watched his wife - it was more that he sensed her, knew her movements, her moods, without even looking. And when Della looked at him she seemed even more alive - if that were possible - more vibrant than before.

They seemed like the more carefree versions of herself and Sheridan. Or maybe they were more than just that. Souls travel in groups, she had always believed that; she had told Michael that. Putting right bad relationships and reliving good ones. Was it possible that Della Sheridan was really a part of her own soul?

Delenn felt an insistent knocking against her leg, looked down and found Archie staring back at her. She recoiled instinctively and against her better judgement; such behaviour was beneath her dignity.

'He won't bite, he's just trying to get to know you.'

Delenn looked up at the speaker and met Della's pleasant smile.

ooOoo

As the rest of us were receiving the benefits of liquid refreshment, it seemed unfair that Archie should be excluded. I went to the bar to get him a bowl of water and he escorted me there and back. On the return journey he headed directly for Ambassador Delenn (following the pattern established by the other man in my life), and she looked somewhat uncertain in regard to his attentions.

'He won't bite,' I told her, 'he's just trying to get to know you.'

I put the bowl down on the floor and claimed the chair nearest Delenn. Archie fell on the dish; I cleared my throat and looked at him severely.

'Are your paws clean?'

He sat back on his hind legs and extended his paws to me.

'That's all right, then.'

Archie lapped at the water emphatically as though it were the only drink he had seen in a month, despite the fact that he was running around with half a fountain in him.

'Does he understand what you say to him?' Delenn asked; it was genuine curiosity.

'I'm not sure,' I said, 'but I always prefer to give the benefit of the doubt wherever possible - you just never know, do you? And Archie is actually very intelligent. Archie... Archie!'

He looked at me expectantly, water dripping from his chin and his tail giving a slight wag like a half-hearted fan waving his pennant for the losing team. I fixed a firm eye on him and said, 'Sit.'

He continued to look at me.

'Sit. Sit down.'

Another half-wag.

'Stand up.'

He sat.

I turned to Delenn triumphantly. 'There, see?'

One corner of her mouth twitched, which I chose to read as a sign of good things to come. Archie shook himself, ears flapping. 'Oh... You're giving the combined names of Ramir and Sheridan a very bad reputation. Will you please pull your weight?'

He sat to attention, then turned his head towards Delenn and let out a soft, questioning whine; his tail thumped the floor.

'If you give him your hand he can get your scent - he'll be able to recognise you properly then,' I said.

Delenn's eyes flicked up to me then back down to Archie. Her shoulders straightened even more and then she leant forward a little, stretching out one hand and looked a little as though she thought he might bite it off. Archie sniffed at her fingers delicately then gave them a friendly lick. That appeared to seal the deal, as John would probably put it. Delenn ran her hand over Archie's grey head then scratched him under his chin. I could see his eyes drifting closed. I should probably have warned Delenn that once she had started that he would quite happily sit there and keep her at it all night, but she struck me as being an intelligent person and I was quite certain that she would figure it out for herself. I took the opportunity to study her more closely. She was extraordinary: I don't just mean the way she looked - I must confess that she was stunning - but the way that she was. She had a way of looking at you as though she could see right into your soul and discover all of your secrets while revealing none of her own. And there was this incredible stillness about her, like the calm centre of a storm. I wondered if I practiced for long enough I might be able to acquire the same quality; I am well able to handle myself in a boardroom - and just about everywhere else - but in dealings with shareholders it would certainly be an effective trick to pull out of a hat. I hope for their sake that no-one ever made the mistake of underestimating Delenn - I wasn't sure that they would survive it.

Delenn looked up from Archie and there was little point in pretending that I had not been staring at her. 'I must seem terribly rude,' I said. 'It's rather selfish, really: thinking about how strange this is for us when I don't suppose that it's any less strange for you.'

'It is ... an unusual experience,' she agreed.

'I'll say. When I woke up this morning the most exciting thing I had to look forward to was a charity dinner - hence the glad-rags.'

Her head tilted at me, her eyes narrowing.

'Glad-rags,' I repeated and shook out the skirt of my dress, 'I mean my clothes and the rest of it.'

She glanced down at her own ensemble, then back at me; I wondered which of us had won in her mental comparison. 'This is not your normal attire?'

'Only on high-days and holidays,' I said. 'It is - at least, it was - a somewhat formal occasion.'

'I see. You will be missed at this charity dinner?'

'Only for the cheque I was supposed to be signing, but they'll get that anyway.' That may have sounded more cynical than I had intended and I am not a cynic; the simple fact is that I have a great deal of money and a great many people want some of it. I have no objection to giving it to those who deserve it. I settled back as far I was able on the small metal chair (some things had not improved over the intervening centuries and the seating arrangements in bars was one of them) and observed my companion.

'I, uh, I should thank you for having looked after my husband.'

She looked at me - uncertain and a little suspicious. I smiled.

'I mean it - with the size of this place and all the things going on here... Well, if he had been left to his own devices there's a very strong possibility that there wouldn't actually be a station left for us to sit in.'

Her eyes crinkled. 'It was my privilege to be of assistance,' she said.

'It was kind of you. Not everyone would do that for a stranger.'

Delenn smiled a little. She wasn't someone who gave much away but I could tell that she acknowledged the point - she just didn't particularly like the truth of it. Neither did I, come to that.

'I hope he behaved himself,' I added.

Delenn looked slightly surprised. 'Yes... Yes, he is very...' She hesitated.

'Charming?' I suggested; she nodded. I glanced at the gentleman in question. 'Mmm. And doesn't he know it.'

John took that moment to break off his conversation with the Messrs Garibaldi and noticed my gaze. He immediately got that slightly panicked expression that men get when they think that women have been talking about them. We had been talking about him, but that is beside the point. I stared at him pointedly; he made a face at me and I made one back. We let it lie at that. I looked back at Delenn and she had watched our little performance with incredulity and some confusion. The relationship between herself and the gallant captain was, I had surmised, somewhat different to the one between John and I.

And that had surprised me; somehow they managed to be together and apart at the same time. Even then they were sitting close to each other: each engaged in different conversations - Captain Sheridan with Susan; Delenn with me - but they had the air of togetherness that couples have. And when Captain Sheridan had approached us in the park, his gaze had found her before he had seen any of the rest of us. He had smiled at us, greeted us, all - but only after he had watched her for a moment, as though he had to reassure himself of her first. Like she was the beacon he would always need before he could find his way.

I leant forward, keeping my voice low. 'If we were back home - my home - I'd suggest that we ditch the men-folk and strike out on our own.' I considered this. 'Actually, that's not such a bad idea. What do you do for fun around here?'

'Fun?' Delenn repeated.

'Yes, fun. You know - letting your hair down, having a good time. Music, dancing - fun.'

'Oh...' She nodded like these were concepts of which she had heard but had not experienced. 'There are restaurants and there is the casino... There are establishments such as this one, many more of them, in Downbelow...'

'Uh-huh. You don't go to them much?'

'They are ... more intended for Human and other's tastes.' She chose her words with care - the mark of the diplomat. 'Minbari do not qualify fun as you do.'

'I see... But you are part Human, aren't you?'

Her eyes widened, her chin lifting. 'Yes, I am.'

'There you are then! You're part Human and I'm new here - it's the perfect opportunity for us to explore the culture on offer.'

Archie had inched forward until he had his chin on her knee; Delenn was stroking his head as though her life depended on it. She stared at me, fixedly. 'I do not... That is... I do not know. I believed that you would wish for time with your husband.'

'Oh, I have time with him,' I said determinedly, 'we have plenty of time. And I was meant to be going out without him tonight anyway - it's just a change of location, that's all; besides, he'll have Captain Sheridan for company.' Her eyes darted sideways - she was no more convinced by that particular line of argument than was I. But they were both full-grown adults - they'd have to get over themselves. I continued my assault. 'And how many times in your life do you get to spend some time with ... whatever we are to one another?'

Her head tilted back then; Delenn looked at me, calm and appraising. I met her gaze and held it. In the end she smiled. 'It is a rare occurrence. It would be wise, as your people would say, to make the most of it.'

'Perfect.' We agreed upon the time; now all I had to do was break the news to my lord and master. I took a sweep of the table and noticed that we were short on one John Sheridan. Specifically, _my_ John Sheridan. 'Where did he go?'

Mike managed to tear himself away from Susan's uniformed charms long enough to glance at me. 'Oh, uh, he said something about a, uh, a window.'

I frowned. 'A window?'

'A big window.'

'A big window?' I despise being reduced to impersonating a parrot. Delenn cleared her throat softly.

'I believe that Mr Sheridan may have returned to the observation point.' She gestured towards a large opening at the end of our section of walkway. 'It is through there; I had shown it to him earlier.'

'Thank-you.' I stood up; Archie immediately sprang at me. 'Oh no,' I said, 'you're staying here.' I took hold of his leash and tried to pass it to Mike. 'Here, take him for me, will you?'

Mike held up his hands. 'Hey, no, don't leave the hound with me.'

'I'll take him.' Captain Sheridan held out a hand.

'Oh, are you sure?'

'Of course.' He had the same easy, good-natured smile as my husband. A gentleman and a gentle man, at heart. I smiled back, passed him the leather leash and Archie trotted over to him happily enough. There's no loyalty like a dog's and ours was promiscuous with his.

'If he isn't star-gazing,' Mike advised me, 'just look for the biggest knot of chippies batting their eyelashes and he'll be stuck in the middle of 'em.'

'Batting their eyelashes,' I muttered, smoothing down my dress and locating my purse. 'If all the girls who batted their eyelashes at him were laid end to end you could use them as a sidewalk.'

I heard Mike snigger as I stalked off. I found the observation point easily enough and the view it afforded was breathtaking. And, as predicted, I soon discovered John sitting on a bench in a corner staring out of one those immense windows at the stars. It was an expression of almost childlike wonder on his face and everything inside me tightened the way it always did when I watched him for long enough. Or even when I just caught a glimpse of him. I sighed; he turned his head to me and smiled.

I took the few steps closer to him and looked out. 'It's a wonderful view, isn't it?'

'It is that.' He looked me up and down. 'And it just got a lot better.'

I let my eyes wander over him. 'That was nice footwork around the dog earlier - I'm glad to see you haven't lost your touch.'

He was dubious in his response. 'You're not going to start calling me Escamillo again, are you?'

'I was thinking about it.' John's gaze drifted back to the window; I smiled sweetly. 'I'm surprised that you didn't ask Ambassador Delenn along to keep you company.'

I should make two points: first, I actually like Delenn a great deal; second, I have perfect trust in my husband. But a woman has her pride.

John took hold of my hand and pulled me; he is much stronger than I - I tumbled down next to him. My back was against his chest and his arms went around me. 'Now, why would I want her for company?'

'Oh, I don't know,' I said carelessly. 'I thought that maybe she was your type.'

'I don't have types - only grey-eyed brunettes with wicked jaws.'

I inclined my head slightly. 'The ambassador _is_ a grey-eyed brunette.'

'Is she? I hadn't noticed.' He looked down at me lazily, his eyebrows rising. And his hold on me tightened. 'And never mind me - what about you?'

'What about me?'

'Batting your eyelashes at the captain like a schoolgirl.'

I smiled slightly, turned against him until I could feel his heart beating under my hand. 'He is very impressive; besides, you know what they say about a man in uniform. Where's yours, by the way?'

He tried to keep his face still but his lips twitched and gave him away. 'Wouldn't you like to know.' His voice was lower then, huskier; the shiver up and down my spine played its own melody.

'I think I would, actually.'

John waited. 'Well?'

'Well.' I looked at the handsome face so close to mine - this man whom I loved so much. 'The captain is a very nice man. But he's not you.'

'That's my girl.'

'And don't you forget it.'

He kissed me then: his mouth a soft question against mine that I answered, opening to him; breath mingled, its warmth spreading right through me.

When we both surfaced for air he brushed the hair away from my face and looked a little astonished. 'What do you do - put Novocaine in your lipstick?'

I smiled and kissed him again.

ooOoo

'I hope that Susan is all right,' I murmured. 'Our Susan, I mean. Poor girl - what must she be thinking? I cannot understand why she isn't here; the rest of us are.'

'She'll be fine,' John said softly, his lips against my hair. 'You know what she's like - she's a tough kid.'

'Yes, but she's also soft-centred,' I reminded him.

'Hm.' He was silent for a moment, then: 'Nikolai Tesla perceived the world as a conductor of acoustical resonance.'

'What a beautiful thought.'

'Maybe it extends to the whole universe; maybe if we all shout loudly enough, Susan will be able to hear us, back where she is.'

I inclined my head, squinting at him over my shoulder. 'You know something? You're a romantic.'

'Say that out loud again and we're getting a divorce.'

I laughed. John shifted, dislodging me from my lovely position against his chest. 'Come on, plaything; I think it's time we rejoined our hosts.'

I stood, running my hands over my hair to smooth it. 'After we've successfully wrecked their reputations around here, you mean?'

He smiled at me, put his arm around my waist and held me to him as we started walking. 'Might do them some good.' John paused and I had to pause with him; he took my chin in one hand, his fingers gentle, and looked at me earnestly. 'There's a chance we're going to be stuck here, you know that don't you?'

'Yes, I know that.'

'No fresh air, no sunshine.'

'No rain on the roof at night,' I added softly. I watched the colour of his eyes shift. 'It doesn't matter - not as long as I'm stuck here with you. Everything else we can deal with.'

One finger caressed my cheek. 'Della Ramir.'

'The name's Sheridan,' I told him.

His lips brushed mine, sweet and soft.

We wandered back towards the area they called the Zocalo and it was still full of people - and aliens; I wondered if it was ever quiet there and guessed that it probably was not. I noticed that our party had decreased in size even further - Mike and Susan were notably absent. I looked at the remaining trio and for a moment felt a little light-headed. It was strange to see them - very definitely a group that belonged together but there was a division within them. Captain Sheridan and Delenn still sat close together, Archie at their feet, with Mr Garibaldi opposite them. I wondered if that was how John and Mike and I appeared to others when they saw us.

We had made it halfway to the table when the bartender approached us. His eyes darted about the place and he wiped his hand against his apron before digging into his pocket; he pulled out my bracelet and held it out to me.

'Here. You should have this back.'

I looked at him. 'No, I can't; we don't have anything else we can pay for the drinks with.'

A spasm passed across his mouth. His eyes darted about again, this time very definitely in the direction of our small party. 'It's okay. They're, y'know, on the house ... sorta. Any friend of the captain's is a friend of mine. Yeah.'

John put his mouth close to my ear. 'Baby, you've arrived.'

'Shush.' My bracelet was still resting in the man's hand (which could have done with a thorough wash, I have to say). 'It really isn't necessary – we can't give you nothing.'

He started to look panicked. 'It's fine. No charge. We're real glad for your custom.' He thrust it at me and I had little choice but to take it. The bartender scuttled off and I turned to my husband.

'Would you mind?'

John fastened it around my wrist. He has well-shaped hands – strong and firm but capable of surprising delicacy when required. His fingers brushed against the skin on the inside of my wrist and I shivered involuntarily. He looked up at me, pausing in his task and my wrist lay in the warm cradle of his hand; his eyes wandered over my face, and I felt my cheeks burn in response to that look. The bracelet was fixed securely and John pulled my arm through his.

When we reached the table again Archie rushed to greet us with the usual canine joy as though he hadn't seen us for a year. I picked him up to stop him from reducing my stockings to shreds – Lord knows when I'd be able to find a new pair – and smiled at the captain who had started out of his seat. 'Oh, please don't get up.' He settled again.

'Where are the rest of the playmates?' John asked.

'Mike wanted to see more of the place,' Mr Garibaldi told us, 'and Susan offered to show him around.' He managed to say it without a hint of sarcasm or irony and I wondered just how much of an effort that was for him.

John sighed and shook his head. 'One minute it's teaching 'em to pitch out back in the yard and catching newts in jars; and the next they're going out with girls.'

'I think it might be time that you had that conversation with him about life. I mean, if he were a girl it would be different - then I'd do it.'

John thought about it. 'Maybe tomorrow.'

I considered Mike and the curvaceous commander. 'I think that by tomorrow it might be too late.'

Archie yapped up at me questioningly.

'He'll explain it to you when you're old enough,' I told him.

'How come I get the gig?' John asked.

'Well, he is a boy,' I replied, 'and you are his father.'

He conceded the point.

There was a soft laugh, barely muffled by the hand over his mouth.

'We amuse you, Mr Garibaldi?' I enquired.

He grinned. 'Endlessly.'

'In that case, our work here is done,' John declared, putting an arm around my waist again. 'Plaything, time to go home – oh wait, we can't.'

'Mm.' I was starting to feel less than at my best appearance-wise – what with one thing and another. 'I wouldn't mind somewhere that I could ... freshen up,' I said delicately; then, addressing Captain Sheridan: 'I believe that you said that our quarters had been arranged?'

'Yes; yes they have.' He looked at me. 'I can show them to you now, if...'

'Thank-you.' I spoke feelingly out of gratitude more than anything else; even so, I could sense John starting on a slow simmer. Men can be so temperamental – even the best of them. I focussed on Delenn. 'I will see you later?'

'Yes, later.'

John looked at me suspiciously. 'What later?'

'You know what later means, don't you?'

'Della...'

I smiled at him. 'The ambassador and I have made plans for the evening; I'm sure that you boys can handle some time on your own.'

'I-'

'So, that's all settled.'

'You-'

'You can ask endless questions about life in space – you know how much you'll love that.'

'Della...' He looked at me helplessly. 'I don't know that that's such a good idea.'

'Oh. All right – just don't ask any questions, then.'

He growled.

'Just try it for a couple of hours; you might even get to like it.'

'Della!'

I smiled at him and slipped the arm that wasn't clamped around Archie through his. 'Delenn, I will see you at eight. Mr Garibaldi.'

'Call me Michael,' he said cheerfully.

'Michael.'

John pulled at my arm. 'Oh, come on if we're going.' He paused and stretched out his free hand to Delenn. 'Again, thank-you.'

She smiled graciously and inclined her head; that got the captain out of his chair and this time I pulled on John's arm.

Captain Sheridan walked us through corridors, his good humour now more of a veneer over brusque answers; my husband was little better. I rather felt as though I were trapped between a pair of equally matched pride lions at war. We had gone some way when Archie decided to make a bid for freedom and a solo adventure: he wriggled out of the crook of my arm and hit the floor running, vanishing around a corner almost before it had registered with me where he was.

'Archie!' I started after him; I could hear John's voice calling my name but I kept going. One small dog in a place that size... We may never have found him again, and I was rather fond of him.

I caught up with him down a short corridor, got him backed into a corner and tried to coax him back towards me. He took a few steps forward and then stopped, the hackles on the back of his neck rising, teeth bared. I stared at him. He growled, a low warning rumble deep in his chest and then barked. There was a sigh in the air behind me, something like the rush of wind bringing strange music that held a broken cord. I turned around.

The thing that stood there was unlike any other creature I had seen in that remarkable place. Its skin was a strange patina, shiny, that your eyes seemed to slip off even as they tried to focus on it. I could see no eyes but I knew that it was looking at me and I felt afraid – a deep, old fear, a childhood nightmare of angels and demons.

'You should not be here.' The voice sounded in my head more than in the air between us.

'I know that.' My mouth had gone dry; I licked my lips. 'I-I just came to get my dog.' Archie had taken refuge at my feet. His teeth were still bared but he was whimpering now. I would have picked him up but I couldn't move.

There was a red aperture set in the front of this creature; it narrowed. 'Who are you?'

'Della Ramir. Sheridan,' I corrected myself. 'I am Della Sheridan.' I am not easily intimidated and I resent being terrorised by something that doesn't even have the wherewithal to show me its true face. Whatever this thing was, it was hiding behind its costume. I knew that. I wasn't sure how I knew that, but I knew it. I tossed my hair away from my shoulder, defiant. 'Who are you?'

The broken music jarred more, hissing at me. 'Impudent.' The aperture widened again, the red burning brighter. Archie's barks were frenzied; I felt his body rocking against my legs from their force.

'You should not be here!'

There was a burst of light, energy splicing the air. I heard someone screaming and then I realised that it was me.

ooOoo

'Della! For God's sake...' John glanced at the captain apologetically before starting after his wife. A fine place to choose to run off on her own. Della had been only slightly ahead of him but she had moved fast and he had already lost sight of her. It was Archie's barks that guided him.

He listened, pausing for a moment.

High-pitched, frantic yelps. John moved forward again, faster; and then it came, Della's voice rising in a cry that cut off suddenly. He started to run.

Around the corner and he saw them - Della crumpled on the floor; Archie, torn between guarding his mistress and terror of her assailant, stood, quivering, the whites of his eyes showing. And then there was that thing. Whatever it had done to Della it was getting ready to do it again, that much he could tell. Great time not to be packing a heater, he thought grimly; Mike had a point about always being prepared.

'Get away from her.'

It turned, a flash of red at its front. John threw himself at it, placing himself between it and Della, one fist swinging and hitting ... something. Softness that seemed to yield but then the blow was absorbed into nothingness. He drew back for a moment and a voice, low, hissing and venomous, came.

'Foolish.'

John didn't see what it hit him with; it didn't matter. He was flung back against a wall, held there and it felt like a vice at his throat; he couldn't breath. That didn't matter. Nothing mattered except Della, lying beside him, and she wasn't moving.

'Ambassador Kosh!' Sheridan, his face darkened, strode down the corridor. 'Let him go.' He stopped as the Vorlon turned, hands clenched at his sides. 'I'm sick of you, all of you, throwing your weight around on this station - my station. And these are my guests. Let him go.'

A pause and then a gasp as John started breathing again, steadying himself against the wall. Sheridan kept his eyes on the Vorlon as it withdrew, gliding silently down the corridor. He turned to his companions. Sheridan had arrived just in time to see John's futile attack on Kosh - and it had left him with no doubt that the man would willingly stand between Della and ten kinds of hell, without a thought. He watched them.

Della had already started to stir, pushing herself up from the floor; John was beside her immediately he was released, pulling her into his arms.

'Della, sweetheart, are you okay?'

'I'm fine; I'm fine.'

'Thank God.'

Della was lost in her husband's embrace, her face buried against his chest. John stroked her hair, her back - and his hands were shaking. And in his whole life, Sheridan thought, he had never seen anyone's face so stripped - emotions so raw written so clearly - as John's was then. Fear, powerful, followed by relief equally as powerful.

'I'm seriously considering keeping you on a leash,' John said, his voice low and strained.

Della's emerged, indistinct. 'Funny, I've thought exactly the same thing about you before today.'

John turned his head, pressing his lips against her forehead. 'My love.' He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked across at Sheridan. 'Thank-you.'

'No problem.' He took a step forward. 'Is she okay?'

'She is fine,' Della said, lifting her head. 'And she is tired of people talking about her as though she isn't here.' She brushed the hair away from her face; her eyes rested on her husband, focussing. 'John, are you all right? Are you hurt?' There was a sharp note of fear in her voice; she put her hands either side of his face and peered at him anxiously.

'Yeah, I'm okay.'

'Are you sure?'

He smiled at her. 'I'm sure; don't fuss, baby.'

'Maybe I should get you both to MedLab.'

'No!' Simultaneous. John continued, 'We're both still whole, I guess; what the hell was that thing, anyway?

Sheridan's jaw set. 'He's the Vorlon ambassador.'

'Vorlon?' John frowned, remembering something that Delenn had told him. 'I thought they were supposed to be the good guys in this war.'

'Yes. So did I,' Sheridan replied.

John kept his arm around Della and she leant against him more heavily than usual; he felt something brush his leg and looked down. Archie looked back up at him. 'Oh, it's you. You go leading her into trouble just one more time and you'll never wag that tail again, you hear me?'

Archie whined and licked his nose.

_TBC_


	9. You Must Remember This

**ooOoo**

**You Must Remember This**

**ooOoo**

If anyone had thought that floating around the cosmos was a peaceful, tranquil sort of gig to land in then anyone would have been wrong. That glorified tin can that they called Babylon 5 saw as much action as a bookie's at Belmont Park during a meet. This was something that I learnt both from my own observations and from what I'd been told by Susan as we strutted through the joint.

And I had also decided that there was nothing about that girl that I didn't like. Commander Susan Ivanova of EarthForce - I had her name and rank; I would have asked for her serial number but you can't expect a girl to go too far on a first date - was a class act. I liked her hair, her liked her eyes, I liked the sound of her sighs... Yeah, yeah, okay - I'll leave the poetry stuff to Della's sister, Maya. But you get the picture. I even liked her in her uniform. I would have liked her even more out of her uniform, but a guy has to take what he can get and be glad of it.

'So, what goes on with this shebang anyhow?' I had asked. And she had told me. It was a diplomatic station, a port and now a base of operations for a war (because you can never have enough of those) and over all of that, it was the sort of place that pretty much everybody ended up washing up at, at some time or another. It made it sound like Rick's Café. Any minute everyone was going to stand up and start a chorus of the _Marseillaise_.

'So,' I said in my best friendly manner, 'sounds like you've got your hands full around here.'

Susan kept staring straight ahead. 'That's an understatement.'

'Uh-huh.' I shoved my hands in my pockets and moseyed along beside her. I was cutting quite a dash that day: I'd had my shoes shined in the morning, my suit had not long been sponged and pressed and my best hat had been brushed by my own two hands only that afternoon while we'd been sitting in the office waiting for the phone to ring. Any girl would have been happy to have her head turned by me but I'm not the kind of guy who can have his head turned by just any girl. 'I guess us showing up like this isn't helping.'

She didn't break stride but her eyes darted sideways at me, looking at me from under her lashes. 'No, it's fine. We've grown used to dealing with ... unusual ... situations.'

I took hold of her arm, bringing her to a stop. 'Hey - y'know if you get wound any tighter you're gonna break yourself in half.'

Her mouth opened slightly; she looked like she was trying to decide whether or not to toss me through a wall but what came out was a little breath of laughter. 'Excuse me?'

I held out my free hand, palm up. 'I don't mean nothing by it. All I'm saying is that if you were a camel and we were a straw we'd probably have heard your spine crack - and there ain't nothing wrong with saying it. It doesn't do you any good keeping it all in - your insides get all mushed up. Throw something, yell, do a soft-shoe shuffle if that's your poison; you'll feel better in the long run.'

'I don't see you following your own advice.' She had arched one shapely eyebrow an eighth of an inch. I arched mine right back.

'Are you kidding? I'm considering throwing my head back and howling, except that I don't look too good that way and I'm trying to make a good impression, see?'

She did that almost-but-not-quite laugh thing again and her eyes slid past me for a second; when they fixed on me again I nearly did throw back my head and howl but for very different reasons. I realised that I still had hold of her arm so I gave it a friendly squeeze and grinned at her.

'Stick with me, precious, and you'll be fine.'

'Mr Garibaldi-'

'Mike,' I said.

She paused. 'Mike. We're doing everything we can to get you home; we're hoping that it won't take too long.'

I shrugged. 'Hey, there's no rush. I always said that I wanted to travel but you know how it goes - you put it off, you say maybe next year, and the next thing you know the furthest you've managed to get is the end of the block and back. So I've travelled a bit further than I was bargaining on - so what? It'll be a great story to tell the kids.'

Susan was looking at me, thoughtful.

'Okay, one kid. Or no kids, if you prefer. Me, I'm easy. I got nothing against kids but it's great if you can just hand 'em back over at the end of the day.'

'Are you always like this?'

'Only in the mating season.'

She shook her head and we started moving again. Susan didn't say much for a couple of minutes and I figured that maybe she was figuring how flat, empty and meaningless her life would be without me in it. I thought I should offer her a ray of hope.

'Hey, look, maybe your boy Draal won't be able to fix it to send us back - that's jake. Like I said, we're good people; we work for a living - well, some of us work for a living - we could fit right in with the rest of the stiffs.'

This idea seemed to amuse her. 'Work? Just what would you do around here?'

I thought about it for a moment. 'Well... I can recite the alphabet backwards, John can waggle his ears, and Della can cross her eyes; so between us we've got the makings of a very, very small and actually quite boring circus act.'

There was a choking sound in the back of her throat that turned into a giggle. That was a nice sound - like one of those tinkling brooks that poetry guys are always banging on about. Susan stopped walking, leant against the wall and put a hand over her mouth like that would help keep the giggles in. It didn't. They turned into full-blow peals of laughter and she was one of the few dolls I'd ever seen who actually looked good with her head thrown back laughing like that. She put her hands over her face, muffling herself until she calmed down; when she emerged again her face was flushed and her eyes were blue as sapphires and soft as a powder-puff.

'See, I told you not to keep it all in,' I said. 'You should keep me around just for the catharsis.' I slipped that word in like a pro and she didn't turn a hair; we were getting along just fine.

'Yeah,' she wiped her eyes, 'maybe.'

A delegation of little grey characters with big black eyes sauntered past us and we let them by before we took up our own sauntering again. Susan's shoulders were less stiff and every now and then her lips would twitch again. I kept myself entertained by imagining what she'd look like in nylons and a slinky number in a nice shade of red - or shade of anything she liked.

'So, you really are a private detective?' she asked after we'd gone some way.

'That's what it says on my licence.'

'Do you enjoy it?'

I shrugged. 'It's a living. It wasn't my idea anyway.'

Her eyebrows went up again. 'Oh? Whose was it?'

'John's. I used to be a cop, see? Then there was some stuff - long story, boring story. Okay, not a boring story but it is long and I don't feel like getting into that. Maybe if you're really good you can have it as a bedtime treat; the cadences of my manly voice will lull you into sweet slumbers. Anyhow, I used to be a cop, then I wasn't, and John decided we should be detectives so I said okay 'cos he's not safe to be let out on his own. It was my good deed for the decade.'

'I see. How long have you been working together?'

'Uh, three years.' I let out a whistle. 'Man, that's a long time. And, brother, does it feel like it.'

'I don't believe it.' Her smile was directed inwards and I thought it was unfair of her not to share it around.

'It's true. Three whole, long years-'

'I mean I don't believe that it's the way you make out; I think you really enjoy what you do.' Susan looked at me like she could see right through me.

'That so, huh?'

'Yes.'

'What about you - don't you enjoy what you do?'

'I...' Susan gave it some thought. 'It's what I wanted; and it has its moments. Things have been pretty tough for us lately and I don't think they're going to be getting any easier anytime soon but, well, that's just part of the job. I do enjoy what I do. It's what I am.'

I didn't doubt it - that girl had steel in her spine and held it so straight you could have used her as a flagpole. 'Anybody keeping the homefires burning?' I had to ask; I think she'd given up being offended by my line of questioning and as she was giving as good as she got it wasn't like she wasn't getting anything out of it.

'No; no, not now. How about you? Is there a Mrs Garibaldi back in nineteen-forty-nine?'

I thought about a girl I'd thought about asking; I thought about her golden hair and her gardenia perfume that had stayed on my pillow for weeks afterwards. 'Nah. Original lone-wolf, see?'

'I see.'

We turned a corner and I could hear music coming from one of the corridors leading off from the corridor we were walking down. It still looked like every other corridor we had walked down and if I had had a suspicious mind (which I do) I would have thought that Susan was just walking me in a circle. Not that I minded; she could take me for a walk anytime. 'What's down there?' I asked.

'That-'

I didn't give the chance to tell me, just hoofed it down to find out for myself. I think I smelt it before anything else - that sort of hot, clammy smell that you get when a lot of people are squashed into one space that isn't big enough to hold them. The lights were dimmer in the corridor than back where we'd come from, which seemed to suit the patrons just fine - they all looked like they had plenty to hide and the shadows were just the place to do it in. The air was soaked with alcohol and sin. I could almost feel right at home. Susan came up behind me; I glanced at her and her mouth had set into a hard line.

'This is Downbelow; it's the undeveloped part of the station.'

'Huh.' Two chippies with heads as bare and shiny as cue-balls inched past, both dressed in the sort of non-clothing you'd expect to see in a joy-house. 'It looks plenty developed to me,' I said. If the worst came to it and we were stuck, I guessed that me and John could just set up shop right here. And Della could...

I glanced at the little bare-headed dolls and the one with almond-shaped eyes dipped her head and gave me a coy little smile.

Nah; Della would never go for that.

I started forward and felt a hand on my arm.

'No.'

'No?' I was hurt. 'But you're showing me the sights - and it looks to me like there's some sights in this joint I'd like to see.'

Susan let out a breath. 'Look, Downbelow isn't... I thought you didn't want to make my life any more difficult than it is already.'

'I don't.'

'Then we're not going in there.'

'Uh-huh. Oh, I see; I get it. Y'know, you dames are all the same - you promise a guy the world and then you make him feel like a heel when he expects you to deliver it.'

She leant a little closer to me and I noticed for the first time that she was wearing perfume - you just had to be standing real close to get a whiff of it. It wasn't the sort of scent that pins you to the wall and slaps you around the face, more the kind that sidles up to you and gets itself attached without you having any say in the matter. Then I thought that maybe it wasn't her perfume, maybe she just smelt that way. I swallowed, hard. One corner of her mouth lifted a sixteenth of an inch. 'I didn't promise you anything.'

I folded my arms, leaned back against a big metal strut and practiced looking unconcerned. 'You're a lowdown dirty fighter.'

She put her eyebrows up. I grinned at her.

'Don't get me wrong, that wasn't a complaint; I like it.'

Susan let out another breath of laughter. 'Come on.' She started off and I followed her; actually, I had intended to stay making nice with my pillar for a while, just to teach her a lesson but my feet had other ideas and had started walking all on their own. Nuts. I remembered telling John that he'd been in deep trouble about five minutes after he first met Della Ramir, so I was glad that he wasn't around to see my current performance and start making wise-cracks of his own.

We hadn't made it that far back into the respectable side of town when a character walking down another corridor crossed our path. He looked at us and affected an air of pleased surprise. I affected one of just downright surprise.

'Ah, Commander; and Mr Garibaldi.' He smiled at us and I didn't buy it for a second - his eyes still looked cold and hard; he had an awful lot of very pointy teeth. He looked like just the kind of guy that John hated on sight - the kind that dyes his hair. The face was right but the accent was way off and he'd pinned some diapers on that made him look like he was angling to play Napoleon. The black arrangement on top of his head stood up like a fan and I decided that I'd been right all along - if Lon Mollari grew out his hair, you really could use him as a chimney brush.

Susan had gone rigid again, shoulders all braced and square. 'Londo.' She nodded curtly.

Lon_do_? Great. Londo. The bird turned his eyes on me.

'Hey,' I said and tried not to sound too strangled.

He tilted his head and his hair quivered. 'Mr Garibaldi, are you all right? You do not seem ... what is it you say? You do not seem to be quite yourself.'

'I'm not,' I told him, 'I'm somebody else.'

Londo looked at me, bushy eyebrows coming together like two caterpillars in a mating dance and then I got another look at his pointy pearlies. 'Ah, this is a joke, yes?'

'Yeah. A joke.'

'Your Earth humour is most peculiar.'

Susan decided to step in and show off her commanding rank. 'I'm sorry, Ambassador, but we ... have a meeting to get to.'

He shrugged, shoulders moving up and down a fraction. 'Of course. Everyone is busy these days, yes?'

She nodded. 'Yes.'

He bowed to us and wandered off, hands behind his back. I slumped against a wall. 'Precious, this is one hell of a place you got here, you know that?'

'Don't I ever.'

There was something else I'd noticed on our way through the set-up: if I thought that people treated a guy named Michael A. Garibaldi with respect, it was nothing on what Susan got. They snapped to when they saw her coming as if their lives depended on it. 'You must get a kick being in charge around here.'

She gave me one of her looks. 'I'm not in charge - the captain is the C.O.'

I shrugged. 'Isn't he all tied up in the war?'

'We all are.' She said it real quiet, real level.

'Okay, I'm not taking anything away from that. I'm not taking anything away from your captain, I guess he's a stand-up guy - I should know, I've had my own copy to handle for the past few years and that ain't no picnic, believe you me. But I've seen the way people look at you around here; he might be the head honcho and he's probably damn good at it but while he's busy thinking up ten ways to save the world before breakfast, you run this place, don't you? All kidding aside, that's amazing. You're amazing.'

Susan's eyes were on me; two spots of colour appeared, one in each cheek, and she glance down for a moment. 'That... I think that's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.'

So I wasn't a poet and I didn't have John's fancy turn of phrase but I had sincerity. And now that I'd gone and laid it out there I felt like an idiot. I felt a little less like an idiot when I saw the way she was looking at me and it was enough to make me roll on my back at her feet right there. I cleared my throat.

'The nicest thing, huh? What, are all the guys around here brain dead?'

She laughed a little. 'I think they must be.' She took in a breath and I could see the hollow of her throat vibrating against the collar of her jacket; she let the breath out again. 'We should probably get a move on if we want to make it to that fake meeting – Londo is many things but he isn't stupid.'

The Lon I knew was a lot of things, too, so I could well imagine what the bird in the velvet jacket could be like. I pushed myself away from the wall and Susan fell in next to me. It felt nice, having her walk alongside.

'I'm sorry,' she said suddenly.

I squinted at her. 'What for?'

'For bringing you here. I... It wasn't supposed to be like this; I was supposed to be finding allies, and I got distracted. I don't know how you ended up here but I think that if I hadn't found you, however it was that I _did_ find you, you'd still be where you're supposed to be.'

I shrugged. 'Aw, skip it. Think I'd miss this?' I was starting to think that maybe I'd just tear up a return ticket if I got offered one. The only person who really relied on me was my landlord and even that wasn't exactly an essential relationship as far as he was concerned; he'd always find some poor shlub willing to hand over his hard earned jack in return for a roof over his head.

I was working my way up to a new speech that would dazzle her with my wit and wisdom when I saw three Sheridans come sailing over the horizon. Della was clamped onto John's arm like he was afraid she'd stray if he took his eye off her for two seconds – at least, that what I thought at first. When they got closer I saw that she looked paler than usual and John's face was strained; he looked like he'd been roughed up some. I took a chance and looked at the captain but he had no battle scars showing.

'Are you two okay?' I asked. 'You look like you've gone a few rounds.'

'It was nothing,' John said, 'just a little breather.'

'What happened?' Susan asked.

'Kosh happened,' Sheridan told her and he looked grim. He wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to get in the way of when he looked at that. Actually, he wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to get in the way of, period.

'Kosh?' John repeated. 'That's its name? Kosh?'

'Yes.'

'Sounds like a sneeze.'

Susan blanched. (That's an actual verb – I checked with Della.)

She shook it off. 'Are you both all right?'

'We're fine,' Della said firmly. 'I'm glad we ran into you, Commander – you are coming with us tonight, aren't you?'

'Uh...' Susan looked at her, taken aback. 'Coming with you where?'

'Delenn and I have arranged a little get together – it's a female only forum.' She turned her eyes on the two males of genus Sheridan and they both had the sense to keep their yaps shut. 'It will be fun.'

It was John's turn to blanch. (Verb, see?)

'I...' Her eyes slipped sideways to me and I all but puffed out my chest. Of course, I would have puffed it out more if I'd had the sense to ask her out before this and I couldn't very well do it now. 'Delenn agreed to this?'

'Oh yes, she was all for it; you simply must come – the more is most definitely the merrier where these things are concerned, don't you think?'

'Well...' I got more eye slippage and for a moment I thought maybe she'd turn Della down; Susan lifted her head. 'Yes, all right. It might even be ... fun.'

Nuts. Still, maybe I could slip Della five bucks to talk me up some.

'Hey, if the girls are headed out, how about poker night?' I said.

'Now there's an idea,' John said.

'I'm full of them.'

'You're full of something.'

'Can it.'

Sheridan had watched us without saying much but he looked like he was enjoying himself somewhat, which made a change from earlier. Whatever a Kosh was it was obviously something in the field of a miracle worker. 'I'll let Michael – our Michael – know.'

'See, and you were worried this was a bad idea,' Della said to John.

'You can drop the past tense, plaything, we're still in the present.'

'Oh, shush. Eight o'clock, Commander – or may I call you Susan?'

'Susan. Susan is fine.'

Della smiled but it wasn't the full wattage; she looked a little unsteady and John didn't loosen his hold on her.

'We're on our way to check out the digs,' he said, 'you coming?'

'I'm still playing at tourist,' I said, 'I'll catch you up.'

They sailed past, Sheridan steering them through. I looked at Susan and grinned at her.

'Precious, I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for.'

She looked uncertain. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, Della isn't exactly wild – she's a nice, respectable kinda gal. Or she was, but then John got his hands on her. It's not that they go looking for stuff to happen, it just seems to happen _to_ them. I'm just giving you a head's up.'

Susan considered this. 'Yes... That sounds a lot like some people I know.' I couldn't tell if she thought that was a good thing or not but I guessed it was probably the one that wasn't good. She started to ease down the hall again and I took the opportunity to get me another whiff of the scent in the air around her.

'By the way, that's a nice perfume you got there.'

She frowned. 'I'm not wearing any.'

I swallowed again. Brother, was I in deep.

ooOoo

'It's probably not quite what you're used to,' Sheridan said, ushering them through the door, 'but it's clean.'

'At the moment an old cardboard box would be welcome,' Della said, 'this is heavenly.' She set Archie down, took of his leash; the dog sniffed the air and took off, making a circuit of the room, jumping on every piece of furniture, then tore into the bedroom, laying claim to the bed. He crossed his paws, chin resting on them.

'Looks like we'll be sleeping on the floor,' John remarked.

His wife glanced at him, the grey of her eyes softening; a look passed between them of shared memory. John cleared his throat.

'This will suit us just fine,' he said. 'Thanks. I, uh, I'm not sure how we can pay for it, though-'

Sheridan held up a hand. 'Don't worry about it; I've become very good at juggling budgets.'

'That's very kind of you,' Della added. She crossed the room, turned in the doorway of the bedroom, grasping the handles of the doors. 'If you gentlemen will excuse me...' She slid them home firmly.

John's eyes remained on that spot for a moment, as though he could still see her through the closed doors; he turned to Sheridan, sank into a chair and jerked his head in the direction of the now unseen Della. 'It's probably a good thing that she's only got the clothes she's standing up in or we wouldn't see her again 'til gone midnight.'

Sheridan smiled lightly. He watched the other man for a while and wondered what sort of prize idiot he had been from the first; he had never been a particularly jealous or possessive man - so he liked to think. Sheridan ran a hand through his hair and sat opposite John.

'Look, about earlier... I just wanted to say-'

John held up his hands, shook his head. 'Skip it. Look, I don't know much about women; if you ask Mike he'll tell you that I don't know anything about women. That isn't true - I know one thing, and that's one more thing than _he_ knows. That isn't the point. What I'm saying is this: women make you crazy.' He spread his hands.

Sheridan blew out a breath. 'I hear that.'

John's features softened some; he patted his pockets, found his cigarettes and tapped one out. Stretching across he held the pack out to Sheridan. The captain hesitated; it was meant as a friendly gesture and after his less than stellar behaviour until this point it seemed churlish to refuse. He took one, holding it uncertainly between his fingers feeling more than a little awkward. It seemed simple enough; he followed John's lead, taking a pull on one end as the flame ignited the other. He choked back the cough as the smoke hit his throat; his chest felt scalded. No filter on the thing; it was certainly a lot less healthy than the versions that circulated now - not that that was saying much.

John sat back, took a deep drag and blew out the smoke lazily; through the closed doors came the sound of running water and the rise and fall of his wife's voice, interspersed with the occasional yap as she and Archie exchanged confidences.

Sheridan tried to find a way of holding the cigarette that didn't make him look like an awkward teenager engaging in a little low-key rebellion. It hadn't been jealousy over John and Delenn, he rationalised; it had been over John and Della. Not because of Della - lovely though she was - but because of what they had. They made it look so easy, now that he actually allowed himself to see it. So different from himself and Delenn... That was his fault. He knew that. They had inched closer, slowly stripping away the barriers, the differences, the knowledge of what they were exposing themselves to until they had reached the point where he felt as close to her as he ever had to anyone in his whole life. He was in love with her; he'd been in love with her for a long time, long before he had even admitted it to himself. And she loved him.

And then.

A cell on Centauri Prime. He could still feel her in his arms, still taste her - the fierce passion of her kiss. A kiss that for her had obviously been only one of many. And the dreams that he had allowed himself were a reality; they were together, she was his, and they had a son. The knowledge of that had brought intense pleasure; his first impulse had been to go to her, to tell her... He had held back. Stubbornness, contrariness, perhaps; denying himself the future that he wanted simply because it had been confirmed to him. Partly, perhaps, but that wasn't it. Londo - Emperor Mollari, as he would be then - had seemed far more interested in him than in Delenn. Was it because of him that she would end up there? Imprisoned, possibly tortured. He might lead her to that and God knows what else beside. Once, early on, when he had started to realise that his feelings for that extraordinary woman were something more profound than he had expected, he had thought that he might be able to talk himself out of her. Not that he had ever really tried; not that he had really wanted to. Maybe she would have been better off if he had. And so here they were - too late to go back and stopped from moving forward - locked into this holding pattern of frustration and desire. And he wanted her so badly.

When the war was over, perhaps; when they had more time.

Sheridan took another pull on the cigarette and coughed helplessly; it was making him light-headed. 'You know,' he managed, 'these things'll kill you.'

John raised one eyebrow. 'Buddy, I'm married to Della. There's every possibility that she'll finish me off before anything else does.'

'I get the feeling that you wouldn't have it any other way.'

John grinned at him. 'Well, I don't have to tell you how that goes.'

Sheridan was still. 'Oh?'

The other man glanced towards the closed doors again. 'They're not exactly unalike, as I'm sure you will have noticed. You have both my congratulations and my sympathies.'

It was like having the little voice in the back of his mind sitting in front of him. Smoking. And he certainly had plenty to say for himself, this smooth-tongued counterpart - to everyone.

'You know, I, uh, I sort of envy you - you're not exactly lost for words.'

John frowned for a moment - it was followed by understanding and incredulity. 'What - you mean the drivel that comes out of my mouth whenever I'm within twenty yards of that woman? Let me tell you something - that's pure survival. If it wasn't for that I'd still be standing in my office with my jaw on the floor staring at her.'

Sheridan raised his eyebrows. 'I find that hard to believe.'

'Well, that just shows how much you know. First time I took her out? I rang her house, I got her on the phone; I fell all over myself for ten minutes. In the end, she asked me out. Smooth, huh?'

Sheridan laughed. 'They really are two headstrong women, aren't they?'

John shook out another cigarette, put it to his lips without touching it with his fingers. 'Oh yes.'

ooOoo

'Hey, how ya' doing?'

Susan started, the familiar voice bringing a wholly unfamiliar confusion. Not Mike, she told herself, relaxing. It was the other one. She turned from the observation window; it seemed to be a popular place lately.

'About time.' She faced him, met Michael's appraising eyes. 'You guys all set for the big game?'

'Sure, I guess.' He shoved his hands into his pockets. 'I haven't played in a while, but I'm sure it'll come back to me. How hard can it be?'

That didn't sound promising, Susan thought. 'Just promise me you won't play for money. And watch the captain. He hates to lose … at anything.'

One corner of his mouth twitched. 'You know, I would never have guessed that about him.'

Susan allowed herself a smile.

Michael looked over his shoulder and saw his twin wandering along the curve of the observation point, staring in undisguised astonishment at assorted alien life. 'How'd he like the grand tour? All this must be pretty strange for them, and that's putting it mildly.'

'They seem to be coping.' And there appeared to have been a cessation of hostilities, judging from when she had last seen the Sheridan trio. 'I took him to C&C, then the gardens, then here. He saw the Zocalo when he met the captain, and I didn't think he'd care for the StarFury bays or the fusion reactor.'

'Who knows what he'd like? It's all new to him.' Michael looked at Susan's face; she was shuttered, more than usual and he proceeded cautiously. 'You okay?'

Susan stiffened. 'Why do you ask?'

'Well, from what I heard you took quite a jolt from that damn machine and all this is what you might call pretty stressful…' His voice petered out. Jerking his head towards Mike, he added, 'He seems a little, you know, interested.'

She had been rigid, now she became glacial. Her words, when they came, were evenly weighed, carefully spaced, and chilling in their execution. 'I do not know what you mean.'

Michael bulled on. 'You know, interested. In you. Personally. As a person of the female type. It was weird to watch myself put the moves on you.' He saw the colour start to rise in her cheeks. 'Not that I would. I mean, I wouldn't. Not that you wouldn't be worth putting the moves on…There's no good way out of this, is there?'

She shook her head. 'No, there's not.' Giving herself a little shake, she laughed slightly. 'You know, what? It's okay. Really. Gather him up and get to the game.'

'Yes, ma'am.' He paused, frowning. 'What brought that on, anyway?'

'It was his idea.' She nodded towards Mike. 'Della has apparently already made other plans - I'm told I get to go out with the girls.'

'The … girls? You and Della?' His eyes took on a strangely glassy look. 'That would be something to see.'

'And Delenn - she was Della's first victim. The poor woman has no idea what she's in for.'

Michael grinned. 'Which one? I, uh, I don't suppose you'd be willing to record that, would you?' he added wistfully. The colour rose in her cheeks again, eyes starting to snap. 'No, I guess not.' He pulled his hands from his pockets, gave her a sketchy salute. 'Good luck. I have a feeling you'll need it.'

'You too.' She turned back to look out the window. It was always a spectacular view. So peaceful; so quiet... She heard Michael greet Mike and exchange a few lines. Their footsteps approached; she didn't say a word to either man as they passed behind her on their way out of the room.

_TBC_


	10. Swing For Yourself, John

**ooOoo**

**Swing For Yourself, John**

**ooOoo**

'...So, I said to him, "If you bring that cat anywhere near me again, I'll have you both up on charges." '

I laughed. 'That's good. That is a good one. If it had been left up to me I would have skinned the damn thing.' We'd fallen into the trap that all soldiers or former soldiers do in the end - swapping stories and trying to tell the best one. Sometimes I'd even forgotten that the man I was talking to could have been my twin brother, if I'd had one. But sometimes it was pretty hard to ignore and I watched him and listened to him and figured that if we really were as alike as everybody else seemed to think we were then I must cut a pretty impressive figure.

And I guess I couldn't really blame him for having his head turned a little by Della - she has that effect on a lot of guys. She doesn't try to, it just sort of happens. His fascination with her had probably been about the same as mine with Delenn had been - it's pretty hard to see another version of someone you're that close to without feeling something for them. But once the novelty factor had worn off, I guess we were all pretty glad to settle back where we were supposed to be.

At least, with _whom_ we were supposed to be; Della and I were about as far from home as you can get.

I stubbed out my cigarette. 'You're not going to have a saucer left in this place,' I said.

'Yeah.' Sheridan looked at the mess of ash with distaste and then shrugged. 'I think I'll have to have them fumigated; or maybe just space 'em - it'll be easier that way.'

I sat back on the couch. 'You know, that reminds me of a time back a few years ago: I was stationed at a base in England and me and some buddies went into a, uh, what do they call them over there... Pub. We went into this pub and there's this guy behind the bar and...'

Like I said, we were two soldiers and it was a soldier's kind of story; nothing dirty or offensive but I try to be a gentleman in mixed company - let's just leave it at that. Anyhow, it went down a treat and we were both laughing over it; we were still laughing over it when I felt something bump against my knee. I looked down and found Archie gazing back up at me; he sneezed and glanced over his shoulder. Della had opened the door again and she stood looking down at the pair of us, bemused.

'How long was I in there?' she murmured.

'Only about three days,' I told her.

Della rolled her eyes at me, pushed herself away from the doorframe and started plumping up the cushions and straightening things the way that women always do whenever two or more innocent males have been sitting around minding their own business. 'I think I preferred it when you two weren't getting along.'

I glanced at Sheridan, he glanced back and I put my eyebrows up. 'Not get along? Us? You've been imagining things.'

She chose to ignore that; Della tweaked at her skirt. 'What time is it?' She was looking at her watch as she asked - one of those cocktail jobs with a face so small the only way she can read it is to hold it about an inch away from her nose and squint at it. But she looks sweet while she does it so I leant back and enjoyed the view for a moment and then checked my watch and said,

'It's nearly eight.'

'Oh, then Delenn should be here soon. I'm quite looking forward to this - I've never been out to dinner with an extraterrestrial before.'

'We have some pretty good restaurants here,' Sheridan said.

Della sat near to me, perching on the arm of the couch. Archie leapt up onto the cushion and inched across until he had his head in her lap. She gave the captain one of her more charming smiles and tilted her head at him. 'Delenn mentioned somewhere called Downbelow? It sounds like just the place.'

'Downbelow?' He got that slightly stricken look that never bodes well.

'Yes.'

'Why,' I asked, 'what's wrong with it?'

The man looked uneasy, shifting a little in his chair. His eyes went to Della and then to me. 'Well... If you stay in the main, more populated areas, it's fine. It can just get a little rough down there.'

Della smiled serenely. 'I can look after myself, Captain.'

'I'm sure you can...' His hands spread for a moment then came together, his fingers linking. 'Maybe you should try the Fresh Aire; it's the best restaurant we have here.'

'Really.'

'Yes - the food's great, it's got a nice atmosphere...'

He'd gone wrong and I would have told him so but sometimes when a man is bent on hanging himself there's not much you can do except stand back and watch him lay out the rope.

Della's eyes had stopped sparkling and started glinting - like polished steel. 'Do I strike you as being a stupid woman?'

He started some and looked at her. 'I'm sorry?'

'I asked if I appear to you to be a stupid woman.'

'No; no, of course not-'

'I see. That's quite a relief. For a moment there I thought that you were under the impression that I lacked the good sense or judgement not to get myself into trouble as soon as I'm ... let loose?'

He let out a breath. 'That is not what I meant; all I-' His thumb ran along his forefinger a few times; that reminded me of someone and I couldn't think who. 'It just might not be a good idea for you to go to Downbelow without ... an ... escort.'

Della's voice dripped honey. 'What would you have? Us sitting in the corner wearing white gloves, with our ankles crossed, under the watchful eye of a chaperone?'

Sheridan's face was starting to get a tight, white look. You might wonder why I didn't step into the party and there are two reasons for that: first, I've tried these arguments with Della - they don't work; second, I thought that his having a domestic dispute with her would be good practice for when he got himself sorted out with Delenn.

I'm thoughtful that way.

'Mrs Sher- Della. You're new here-'

'Yes, I am.' She was rigid, her chin lifted. 'But Delenn isn't and neither is Susan - forgive me, _Commander_ Ivanova; or is it _their_ judgement of which you obviously have so low an opinion?'

His lips pursed. He glanced at me and I shrugged slightly. Whatever he was going to say to that he kept to himself - probably wisely; instead he looked her over for a moment and then said, 'No. I'm sorry.' He took a breath. 'But I'd leave the jewellery behind, if I were you.'

The storm had passed. Della's hand went to the rope of diamonds at her throat. 'Oh... Oh, all right.' The necklace went and so did the bracelet, but she left the clips on her dress and her earrings. I fidgeted. We're not joined at the hip; there are plenty of evenings where she'll go her way and I'll go mine. That doesn't mean that I don't worry about her.

'I hope you'll leave the place in one piece,' I said, 'I think they've got enough on their plates without you raising cain.'

'Oh, for heaven's-' Her lips pushed out and then in again. She addressed herself to Sheridan: 'I have never raised cain in my life.' That is not entirely true but it isn't a good idea to accuse a lady of being liar, especially when you're in company and especially when you are married to the aforementioned lady. She can take it out on you in other ways. 'Besides,' Della added, 'it's not as though Maya is with us.'

'Oh yeah - that way everybody should keep their clothes on.'

'Once - she did that once.'

There was a sudden noise in the air that kept us from getting any further - a musical, mechanical note like someone playing a tune. Archie barked at it; Della and I looked around; Sheridan stood up and looked like he was trying not to laugh at us.

'It's the door-chime,' he said, and crossed the room to answer it.

In New York City we could consider ourselves pretty sophisticated; in a suite of rooms on a space station we were thrown by a doorbell ringing. We were like two country mice to his city slicker.

Archie did what dogs do and trotted after him - I think he sees every open door as some sort of personal challenge. Delenn was in the corridor with two Garibaldis. Mike grinned in at us.

'Look who we found wandering the corridors - we figured we better scoop her up and bring her along.'

That's what he likes to think of as charming banter and nothing is going to break him of the habit. Delenn just looked vaguely amused and stepped through the doorway. Archie was still playing at being the welcoming committee but he managed not to mount an assault on her again. He stood and wagged his tail politely and she stared down at him gravely.

'Hello, Archie.' Then she looked up and smiled at the captain. 'Hello, John.'

'Delenn.'

They stood looking at each other for a moment and for that moment I wondered if she remembered who it was she was supposed to be having dinner with. Luckily for her, Mike was there to remind us. He clapped his hands together.

'So, you girls all ready for the big night out?'

'Yes,' Della slid off the arm, 'let me just get my purse...' She vanished again but was back a few seconds later; she'd apparently taken Sheridan's advice to heart and had left her wrap behind, too. 'All right. Delenn, are you ready to go?'

Delenn inclined her head. 'Yes. I had a message from Susan - she will meet us at the Zocalo.'

They made for quite a sight standing next to each other. Della had a couple of inches on the ambassador; at least, her heels gave her a couple of inches. I guess they were about the same height in their stockinged feet. Delenn had pinned her hair up, just a few fine curls left to frame her face. Mike had a point - with the crest she really did look like someone had crowned her Miss America. Or maybe Miss Minbar would be more appropriate. I thought it was a good thing that she and Sheridan didn't share an office because if they had with her wafting around looking the way she did he never would have got any work done. (I know what I'm talking about - it would be a bit like the times Della drops by the office if I'm working late. Sometimes she tries to distract me and sometimes she doesn't, but even when she doesn't she still does.) That evening Delenn was wearing the same sort of flowing silk number she'd had on earlier but this time in crimson and gold and she looked a knockout. Della, in a sort of green-grey and without her diamonds, was more understated but no less decorative. Or maybe I'm just biased.

Della fished Archie's leash out of her purse and crouched down to fix it on his collar.

'You think that's a good idea, plaything?'

She looked up at me, eyebrows raised. 'Do you want him in here with you?'

Mike plucked at my elbow urgently and I thought about the last time that Archie had been holed up with us during a poker party. 'Who, me? I haven't said a word.'

'Hm, that's what I thought. Anyway, I'll be able to get you something to eat, won't I?' She ruffled his ears and straightened. 'So. We'll leave you to it, shall we?'

'Actually,' Sheridan said, 'I thought it might be better if we move this down to my quarters - about the only thing on offer here is water, I'm afraid.'

Mike wrinkled his nose. 'Water?'

'Yeah, water,' I said, 'it's a mixer - you've had it in Scotch.'

He grinned at me. 'Gotcha. Brother, I could go for a slug of that right about now.'

We'd filed out into the corridor and shifted about so that we'd all fit into it. Everywhere I looked I was seeing double except for when I looked at Sheridan and then it was like I was looking in a mirror. He was leading the way and said over his shoulder to Mike, 'I should have a bottle of Scotch somewhere.'

Mike looked relieved. 'Thank God. You know, so far all I could make out was that you boys don't smoke, you don't drink and you don't chase women. I was starting to wonder if you were actually Human.'

'You ought not be so judgemental,' Della told him; she had ended up walking next to him in our two-by-two crocodile and I craned my neck back to look at them.

'I'm not,' he said, all mock innocence. 'I'm the broadminded type.'

'Hmm.' Della didn't look convinced and I couldn't blame her.

'I am. I'm even sensitive. I turn my hand to the fine, expressive arts - like poetry.'

Her eyebrows arched. 'Poetry?'

'Yeah, sure; I mean - how hard can it be?' Mike put his arm around her shoulders and gestured expressively with his other hand. 'Della Ramir, Della Ramir; with hair so dark and eyes so clear-'

She was aghast. 'Is that the best you can do?'

'Well, I couldn't think of anything that rhymed with Susan Ivanova.'

Della narrowed her eyes at him. 'Since when did you carry a torch for Susan?'

'I don't. I mean, I don't for _our_ Susan. See?'

'I see...'

He grinned at her. 'What do you think?'

She was sceptical - for which I also couldn't blame her. 'I think that she'll eat you for breakfast.'

'Yeah, but I think he'll enjoy that,' I told her.

Mike glowered at me. 'Skip it, will ya? Listen, Della, put in a good word for me, huh?'

She put her eyebrows up at him.

'I'll give you five bucks.' He'd let go of her and actually had his wallet out and peeled off a greenback.

Her chin lifted, cheeks sucking in slightly. 'You want me to act as your... Well, something not very nice?'

He peeled off another note. 'Ten bucks?'

'You're a heel.'

She took the money, though.

We'd taken some turns and finally reached another door that looked exactly every other door in a corridor that was a replica of the one we'd left. I wondered how anyone managed to find their way anywhere but you can get used to pretty much anything after a while, I guess.

'Here we are,' Sheridan said.

'I hope you all behave yourselves,' Della stated and gave us the same sort of look that my old drill sergeant used to use back in the training barracks just before lights out. She tilted her head and looked at me speculatively. 'I'm almost tempted to stay on - I'd be interested to hear how you talk about me behind my back.'

I smiled at her. 'Walk in front of me sometime and I'll try to think of something.'

She rolled her eyes and stalked across to Delenn, putting her hand just under the ambassador's elbow. 'Come on - it's just downhill from here on in with this lot.'

Delenn inclined her head. 'I hope that you have a pleasant evening.'

It was addressed to all of us, I think, but Sheridan was the designated spokesman. 'You too. And, uh, take care.' She looked at him reproachfully; some guys just never learn.

They both started off down the corridor; they'd gone a little way when Della looked back at me over her shoulder.

'Well? Thought of anything yet?'

I'd thought of plenty but they weren't the kind of things a guy wants to say to his girl in the middle of a corridor with an audience giving them the eye. I put my hands in my pockets and gave her a lazy smile. 'I'll tell you later.'

Her lips curved and then she turned back, followed Delenn towards where I guessed the elevators were. Two dark heads gleaming under the strip lighting; they both had the same graceful sway when they walked.

'I hope they'll be okay.' I hadn't even realised that I'd said it out loud until I heard Mike.

'It'll be fine. Della can take care of herself.' He held out a hand to me, turned palm up. 'Remember that time at Sardi's?'

I blew out a breath. 'Yeah, I remember; it's not like I'd forget.'

'Whoa.' Garibaldi stared at both of us. 'Sardi's? You mean the restaurant Sardi's?'

We exchanged a glance. I shrugged. Mike said, 'It's the only one I know.'

Garibaldi gave a soft, low whistle; his eyes had a glazed look. 'Man. I always wanted to see that place...'

Sheridan had got his door open and took up the slack on the conversation end. 'What did happen there?'

'Some drunk put his hands on Della,' Mike said, 'and he wouldn't shake loose 'cos he thought she was Gene Tierney, see? Anyhow, she got herself loose by putting her cigarette out on the back of his hand. Of course, that might have been the end of it but then Captain America over here-' he jerked his thumb at me '-had to step in.'

I glared at him; he grinned back at me. 'Just go inside, will you?'

He stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered through the doorway. I wasn't worried about Della anymore. I was worried about how we'd make it through the evening without a murder being committed.

ooOoo

'I suppose that this is the sort of place that you'd call a dive,' Susan said, looking around the interior of the restaurant.

'Oh no,' Della replied, 'this is what would be termed a joint: a dive is much more declassé; you know,' her nose wrinkled a little, 'the sort of place that has sawdust on the floor.'

'Sounds charming.'

'You'd think so, wouldn't you?' Della replied vaguely. 'Do we wait to be seated?'

Only if you wanted to wait for a very long time, Susan thought. 'No, you just grab a table and-'

No further encouragement was needed: Della picked her way through the tables, Delenn following. They attracted plenty of admiring glances as they passed - but if anyone noticed the startling resemblance between the Minbari and her Human companion, Susan couldn't tell. Even so, she was relieved that there was no-one in there that she knew; she wasn't in the mood for yet more explanations. Susan threaded through the seated crowd - receiving admiring glances of her own - and joined the two women.

The two women and Archie, she amended.

When Della had wafted into view up on the Zocalo, it had taken Susan some moments to realise that she was serious about taking the dog with them.

'He's been everywhere from the Waldorf Astoria on down,' Della had told her by way of explanation. And what was good enough for the Waldorf... Archie had added his own arguments by sitting back on his haunches and bobbing his front paws up and down, his bright round eyes fixed on Susan's face.

Della tied one end of his leash to her chair and he settled happily at her feet.

'Ah, Commander, so good to see you again.' She looked up at the voice and smiled back at the round face that greeted her. Carlo was a rotund little man but capable of surprising speed; his hands moved with the fluidity of a maestro's when he spoke. 'And your charming friends...' He trailed off, his gaze moving from one face to the other.

'Hello, Carlo; it's nice to see you, too.'

He shook himself and turned his gaze back to Susan with an effort. 'What can I get for you tonight? We have some wonderful specials.'

'Well, it's never a good idea to eat on an empty stomach,' Della said. 'I think we should have some drinks first.'

Carlo beamed at her. 'Of course; what would you like?'

'Could I have a dry Martini?'

'Certainly - gin or vodka?'

Della shuddered. 'Gin. Thank-you.'

'I, uh...' Susan paused. 'I think I'll have the same - I haven't had a Martini in years.'

Carlo nodded approvingly, turned his attention on Delenn. She looked at him uncertainly.

'I...' What was it that John had ordered for her at the Fresh Aire? She couldn't remember; she had been too busy concentrating on other things.

'How about some fizzy lemonade?' Susan suggested. 'It's festive, at least.'

'And we squeeze it fresh everyday from lemons from the hydroponicum.' One plump hand emphasised the point.

Delenn looked relieved. 'Yes, thank-you.'

Carlo smiled at them again, retreated to the bar.

'Do you not drink at all?' Della put her elbows on the table, propped her chin on the bridge of her hands.

'No. Alcohol has a ... distressing ... effect on Minbari.'

'Oh. I see.'

Delenn's fingers linked together, resting on the tabletop. 'It has, on occasion, been known to induce homicidal rages.'

Della's eyes widened. 'Oh... Well, definitely no Manhattans for you.' She considered this new information. 'You know, I had an uncle like that once. Only the homicidal rages were induced when the alcohol was withheld, which isn't really the same thing at all, actually... Are you all right, Susan?'

Susan choked, bit the inside of her cheek. 'I'm fine.'

ooOoo

'We should probably order in.' Sheridan pulled the ornate bottle from the back of the cupboard. Brivari, barely touched - a gift from Vir Cotto in the wake of the Narn resettlement issue. It should, by rights, have gone to Susan but she had refused. Its potency would put her vodka to shame; but Sheridan had a feeling that his guests, at least, would find it a welcome addition. He straightened up, found Michael standing behind him.

'Nah, I can rustle us up something.' He pulled open a door. 'Okay, I would rustle us up something if you actually had any food. What the hell do you live on besides oranges? I mean, I could do us some orange juice, maybe some marmalade given a few hours, but that's about it.'

'I don't really get the time.'

'What, to eat?'

The captain released a breath. He liked Michael; he was fond of Michael; there were just times when he wanted to kill Michael. 'No, to cook.'

Michael eyed him critically. 'If you keep eating at the canteen the Shadows will be the least of your worries - that stuff will finish you off long before anything else gets the chance.'

Sheridan smiled. 'Yeah, well, when that happens just make sure you cultivate whatever it was that killed me and use it as a chemical weapon.'

'That's you - always looking for the positive angle.' Michael paused for a moment, then: 'Seriously, when is the last time you cooked a decent meal?'

Sheridan narrowed his eyes. 'Okay - come on out of there.'

'Huh?'

'I know you're really Stephen dressed up in a Michael Garibaldi suit.'

'Funny.'

Michael's interrogation had stirred memories - ones he had returned to so many times before. The last time he had made a decent meal... Well, he couldn't swear to how decent it had been but he had cooked it. And Delenn had eaten the flarn. He smiled to himself, collected some glasses.

'By the way,' Michael kept his voice low, 'I put an extra patrol in Downbelow, told 'em to keep an eye on, uh, the ladies. Just in case.' He grinned. 'All part of the job.'

Sheridan hesitated, torn for a moment. 'I hope for your officers' sakes the ladies don't find out about it - I've already been chewed out once tonight about that sort of thing.'

'Oh?' He raised his eyebrows. 'Who by?'

'Della.'

'Ah.' Michael was silent for a moment. 'Some guys get all the fun.'

There was, Sheridan thought, no answer to that.

The table that Mike and John had been manoeuvring was put into place with a thud. Mike took a step back, admired the handiwork. 'Okay - we've got a deck, we've got liquor, all we need now is the chow and I think we're all set.'

'Chow?'

'Food,' John translated, 'he's always thinking with his stomach.'

Sheridan's eyes crinkled. 'Yeah, that reminds me of someone I know.'

'Hey!'

'Chips,' Mike said suddenly.

John rolled his eyes. 'See? That's exactly what I'm talking about.'

'Not those chips, you big mook,' his partner replied, disgusted. 'I mean poker chips. Little coloured plastic disks - this ringing any bells? I mean, unless you wanted to play with actual potato chips, or maybe we could use your medals.' He addressed the last to Sheridan.

'What?'

Mike shrugged. 'Well, I figured that if you're anything like him,' he jerked his head at John, 'you'll have about a million of them.'

John muttered something under his breath.

'Look, I've got a set of chips,' Michael said. 'Why don't I go and get them?'

'I'll come with you,' John said. Michael looked at him, surprised. 'I could do with stretching my legs.'

In the background Mike and Sheridan's voices rose and fell, bickering amiably. John looked almost desperate, he thought. 'Okay, come on then.'

ooOoo

Should you ever find yourself on board Babylon 5, I can recommend dinner at the little place in Downbelow to which Susan had directed us. The tableclothes may be plastic and there are patches of floor that are suspiciously sticky, but it has a wonderful ambience and the food is remarkably good.

It also plays home to the largest Martinis I have ever seen.

I stared down at the glass that had been placed in front of me with awe. It was a small silvery sea with an olive floating in it like a solitary beach ball. I wondered if I might not have been better off joining Delenn in the lemonade (I was assured that that too is delicious) but I decided that very small sips at decent intervals should be quite safe.

We chatted politely at first, all gauging one another and all trying to pretend that we were not. Susan had started to relax - with her cheeks flushing and now that she was actually smiling she reminded me more of the Susan Ivanova I knew. It really is astonishing how two people can be so alike and yet so dissimilar at the same time. Our Susan is, as John would describe her, a 'tough kid' but she is also a darling girl and absolutely devoted to the boys. I could see a similar devotion in the commander - and a great deal more toughness. It was the sort of armour that comes from a hard life.

And I wondered how people compared myself and Delenn. She sat, smiling quietly, listening more than talking herself. I was under no illusions that she was not capable of holding an entire room should occasion demand.

'What should we drink to?' I lifted my glass carefully, the small sea making not-so-small waves.

'Umm - the past?' Susan volunteered.

'Hmm... Maybe to the future - sounds far more optimistic.'

Susan's eyebrows arched. 'To the future - let's hope we have one.'

Delenn sighed and looked at her with something like reproach but she said nothing. Our glasses chimed together and we all drank. I replaced my glass.

'I enjoyed meeting your friend Draal,' I said to Delenn; her smile widened and her eyes softened at the mention of his name. 'He said that he was Religious Caste - I wasn't quite certain what that meant. I thought that perhaps he is priest, but he said not.'

She paused for a minute, choosing her words. 'To be Religious Caste does not mean to be in religious orders. Minbari society is divided into three castes - Religious, Worker and Warrior.'

'And you are Religious Caste?' It was a guess but I was certain it was the correct one. I'm sure that there are exceptions (there always are) but I doubt if many warriors would talk about faith as she had; and while many workers may be devout, they probably have little time to discuss such matters. She inclined her head. 'That must be nice - to be so certain of your place, of who you are.'

There was another pause. 'Yes.' There was an undercurrent, even in that one word and I remembered what Captain Sheridan had told me; and I remembered the way that some of the Minbari had looked at me when they had mistaken me for her, as though I - or rather, she - were a non-person. 'There is a strange thing about certainties,' she continued, 'things shift and change and certainties are no longer quite so certain as they once were.'

'I hear that,' Susan said softly; she took another sip of her drink - she was some way ahead of me on that.

Delenn was watching me thoughtfully, her hands resting on the table, one either side of her glass. 'You are not certain of your place?'

It was my turn to pause and to choose my words. 'I was, then I wasn't but now I'm getting there. I realised some time ago that few of the decisions I had made in my life had been decisions at all - I had simply followed the path that had been laid out for me. Not that there was anything wrong with that; it wasn't as though I were doing anything that I did not wish to, it just didn't occur to me to do anything different. Apart from during the war when I worked at the Red Cross, I chose very little for myself. And then I married John,' I couldn't help myself but smile, 'which is the only other thing that I have chosen for myself.'

Marriage, for many women, is as stultifying as any prison; my own has brought me great freedom.

Delenn absorbed my words, turning in on herself; I could see the longing in her. Susan seemed more bemused; she caught her breath, held it for a moment then shook her head and smiled at me.

'You know, I still can't believe that your Garibaldi and Sheridan are real live detectives.'

I laughed. 'Live, perhaps, I don't know how real they are - between us, I think that they just make it up as they go along.'

Archie decided to rouse himself for a moment; he stood up, put his front paws on my knee and butted his head against me. I stroked his head. The nice waiter had been kind enough to provide me with a bowl and a jug of water and he looked like the sort of gentleman who might even rustle up a bone or two for his four-footed customer. 'It's nice here.'

'Mm. It's not a bad little place,' Susan agreed.

'How does it compare to the Fresh Aire?' She looked at me, surprised. 'Captain Sheridan mentioned it; he was attempting to persuade me - or, rather, us - not to venture into Downbelow without...'

'Without what?' Delenn took a sip of her lemonade.

'The word "escort" did pass his lips,' I admitted.

Susan snorted and rolled her eyes. 'He didn't. Did he? Oh, for God's sake...'

'I know.' I scratched Archie behind his ears and he sighed contentedly. 'He would do better to worry about himself - I suppose I really ought to have warned him that Mike cheats.'

ooOoo

I was almost getting used to all the endless corridors that all looked pretty much the same. Almost. I'd latched onto Michael Garibaldi more as a way to have a break for five minutes. Doing the old soldier routine had been fine in its way but it had also reminded me of lot of things that I'd sooner forget; then there was also the fact that Mike was in far too good a mood. Add to that the prospect of Della and her ongoing mission to make my life as difficult as possible - and that was enough to give a strong man the sort of nightmares that make your hair stand on end. Garibaldi walked next to me and didn't say much - but every now and then his eyes swivelled in my direction.

'I'll get some snaps done of my profile,' I told him, 'then you can examine it all you want.'

He cleared his throat. 'Sorry, it's just...' He looked guilty and I felt like a louse.

'Nah, ignore me - I'm just getting antsy.'

'I'll bet.'

'Doubles everywhere you look; just waiting around for someone else to solve my problems for me - and I've never been too good at doing that.'

'You don't say.'

Sarcasm - that was definitely sarcasm. I looked at him and he grinned back at me - and I would have recognised that grin a mile off.

'That wouldn't be because you think you can deal with it all better than anyone else can, would it?'

'Uh... It might... But I'll admit that all this,' I gestured around for emphasis, 'is beyond me.'

We stopped outside a door and he turned to me. 'Listen, would you be willing to put that in writing and sign it? I'd like to get it framed and hang it on my wall.'

I narrowed my eyes at him and he sniggered; he punched a code into the pad on the wall by the door and the metal slid back. We stepped inside.

'So this is your digs?' I looked around the place with interest.

'This is the place. It's not much, but it's home.'

It was smaller than the captain's, smaller than the place Della and I were putting up in but it was clean and neat and homely. Very much a man's place - no feminine touches here. I made a sweep and my brain refused to believe what my eyes had just seen. They took on a bet on it and it turned out that my eyes had been right - there really was a portrait of Daffy Duck hanging over the bed. In three hundred years, some guys just never change. If anything, they get worse. I glanced at Garibaldi and got a great view of his back.

'Nice picture,' I said.

'Thanks.' He grunted it out. He was fishing in a cabinet and had put what looked like a fondue pot on the counter; he hoiked himself up and rooted around the back of the cabinet.

'Here they are! I knew they were around here somewhere.' He jumped down to the floor, set the poker chips on the kitchen counter and blew a nice dust cloud off them. 'Man, I haven't had these out in a long time.'

'Sounds like you haven't had a game in a while.'

'Nah. Nobody here plays much poker. Some of the pilots… But I don't hang out much with them. More Ivanova's style.'

Mike was going to love her all right. 'Flyboys.' I couldn't help a chuckle. 'Still always with the cards, huh?' Garibaldi was cleaning off the chips - a nice mix of the old red, white and blue - and I couldn't help wondering why he had them if nobody ever used them. He must have read my mind (and the thought of that is also something to give you nightmares) because he said,

'This was a gift, actually. From an old friend, name of Sinclair.'

I stared at him for a moment. 'Would that be a Jeff Sinclair? Is he around somewhere?'

He looked up at me, his hands tightening on the chip caddy and I got the feeling that I'd opened my mouth and put both feet right in it. 'No. He's not around. Not anymore.'

'Oh.'

'How do you know him?'

I scratched the back of my neck. 'I don't. He was Mike's partner, back when Mike was still a Homicide dick, but I've never met him.'

'But he's still around somewhere?' It sounded like it was important to him.

'Yeah, as far as I know. Mike said he's become a priest or a monk or something; whether that's true or not...' I shrugged. 'Mike doesn't really talk about it much.'

There were a lot of things that Mike and I didn't talk about; not because we had anything to hide but because... Well, back when we hooked up we were both looking for something new, a fresh start, and it doesn't make much sense to keep dwelling on the past if you're trying to get away from it. I figure that if there's something he wants me to know he'll tell me, and vice versa; until then, we just don't ask.

Garibaldi was still staring down at the caddy and when he spoke his voice was soft. 'We had a regular game going when we were both stationed on Mars. Old Stone Face, we used to call him. You could never tell what was going on in Jeff's head, whether it was poker or anything else.' He seemed to brighten up at the memory.

There was one thing in that little speech that got to me. 'One second - you mean _Mars_ Mars?'

His eyebrows went up, surprised. 'Yeah - _Mars_ Mars.'

I let out a whistle. 'Okay, this I have to know and give it to me straight - are there any little green men up there?'

He laughed at me then. 'No; plenty of other things these days but no little green men.'

I sighed. 'Yeah, I should have known... Guess you can't have everything, huh?'

He grinned at me, tucked the caddy under his arm. 'C'mon. The guys are waiting. I haven't played for a long time, and I'm looking forward to taking some of Mike's funny money.'

'Good luck with that,' I muttered and followed him out of the room.

_TBC_


	11. Reminiscences

**ooOoo**

**Reminiscences**

**ooOoo**

The Martini had gone straight to her head, Susan decided, that followed by the wine; there was no other possible reason why she had chosen to tell this particular story. She had never told anyone about it - Stephen's justifiable curiosity and Sheridan's admiring queries had both been shrugged off casually. Now she was telling all to Delenn, of all people, and a complete stranger. Not that either of them seemed to shock easily - Delenn was one of the most self-possessed people she had ever known; and while Della was still something of an unknown quantity, if she could deal so calmly with her current situation, she would be able to handle just about anything.

'-And that's when he told me that the way that his people conclude negotiations is by...' Two pairs of grey eyes watched her expectantly. They both had the same manner of listening: intently, as though what was being said was the most important thing they had ever heard. Susan brushed the hair away from her face, took a breath. 'Is by ... engaging in... Hell, is by having sex.'

Della's glass was checked halfway to her lips; she stared at her new friend over the rim. 'You didn't.'

'No! God, no.' Susan shook her head vehemently. 'But these were very important negotiations and it was one of the first big diplomatic assignments that I'd been given after my promotion.'

'You did not tell Captain Sheridan of this?'

'Would you want to break that news to him?' Susan asked Delenn; the ambassador's lips twitched slightly. 'Exactly.'

Della took a small sip of her wine, replaced the glass and chased a drop of condensation along the stem. 'So what did you do?'

'Well...' Susan's fork speared something on her plate. 'The thing was, the ambassador thought that his race was superior to everyone else in the galaxy and because they were superior it was beneath him to learn anything about anybody else. He didn't actually know anything about Humans - not our culture, not our languages and certainly not our biology; so, he didn't know how we...'

'Reproduce?' Della offered.

'Uh... Yes. That's a good euphemism. He didn't know. So I agreed to his terms, provided that we do it Human style.' The two pairs of grey eyes gleamed, understanding. 'I did this sort of dance, held his hand for a while and he just stood there... Let's just say that if that _had_ been Human style, he would have been really good at it.'

Della choked, covered her mouth with her hand and tried to stifle her laughter.

'There is much to be said for learning about other cultures and understanding one another's ways,' Delenn said, her voice, as always, soft and level, 'but there is also an argument to be made for cultural ignorance.'

Susan laughed. 'God, yes. I never thought I'd be so glad to meet a bigoted snob.' She paused, looked at Delenn. 'The Minbari don't deal with the Lumati very much, do they?'

'No,' Delenn replied firmly, 'we do not.'

'Smart move.'

Della wiped her eyes. 'I don't _think_ any of the board members have ever suggested that particular approach, but if they ever do I'll know what line to take.' Her voice wobbled, threatening to break again.

'I would have thought that you'd come in for a lot of harassment,' Susan said. 'I mean, it's a lot more of a man's world for you, isn't it?'

'Most of the members have known me since I was a child: they're more likely to try and pat me on the head than chase me around the office. To be honest, I think I'd almost prefer the latter to being patronised.'

Heaven help the man who tried that, Susan thought. She settled back in her chair. It had been a long time since she had had an evening out like this, she realised; outside of Delenn, Sheridan and the rest of the command staff there was no-one to whom she was particularly close on Babylon 5; and outside of Delenn she no longer had a close female friend. She had missed the simplicity of that, without even realising it.

'Nothing that scandalous has ever happened to me,' Della added; it sounded almost like a complaint.

'Not even when you're doing detective work?'

'No...' Her lips pursed. 'Well, there was that time I got thrown in the fishtank.' Her new friends looked at her blankly. 'A holding cell - you know, in a police station.'

Susan's eyebrows climbed to meet her hairline and she tried to picture Della in a jail of any sort. 'You were arrested?'

'More or less. I wasn't actually charged with anything; it was all John's fault, anyway.'

'You were imprisoned because of him?' Delenn's face was grave; she watched the other woman closely, marvelling at the casualness with which she discussed this predicament.

'Oh,' Della was dismissive, one hand waving airily - the light caught the slim gold band on her finger, 'I wasn't actually put in prison, it was only the cells at the local precinct. And John didn't have me arrested, he just failed to prevent the police from arresting me.'

Susan pushed her plate away, leant her elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand. 'All right, now you're making me ask - why?'

They had to lean closer together to make themselves heard; the volume had risen in the tiny restaurant as all around them people were determined to enjoy themselves.

'Well, that flatfoot I married and his partner had been hired on a case and I was giving them a hand with it - men always think that they can handle everything themselves and they really can't - and there was a slight misunderstanding and I was picked up by a plainclothes detective and put in the cells with ... well, with the call-girls who'd been hauled in that night.' She paused. 'Poor things - most of them were terribly sweet girls who just wanted to go home and see their mothers. Anyway, John was told that I had been taken in but he pretended he thought I was an impostor and told the desk sergeant to leave me there; he thought that if I spent a few hours cooling my heels in a police cell it would cure me of wanting to do any more sleuthing.'

'Did it have the desired effect?' Delenn asked.

Della met her eyes, her own sparkling. 'What do you think?'

ooOoo

Most guys have a tell when they're sitting around the card table, whether they know it or not and whether they're willing to own up to it or not. I have one of my own but I'm not letting on here 'cos you never know who you might sitting opposite over a hand one of these days. But let's just say that I've had plenty of practice working on my face while at the card table - I was just scowling on the inside at the hand I'd been dealt. I glanced at my companions: the great Michael Garibaldi was frowning slightly, his lips pushed out, focussed on his cards; both specimens of Sheridan were blank. Those two were getting more alike as the night wore on and it was getting to me. Personally, I suspecting them of having it all rehearsed beforehand just so they could drive me nuts and win all my money.

Apparently, the lovely, leggy Susan Ivanova had attached a no dough clause to the proceedings. Dames, huh? That had lasted all of five minutes.

'Okay, gentlemen, cards?'

'One,' John said without turning a hair. I put my brows up at him.

'Are you sure about that? Just the one? With the hand you've got?'

He looked at me. He's got this little repertoire of stares that he likes to try out on me and I think he's under the impression that he can intimidate me with just one look. He can't but it doesn't stop him from trying.

Okay, okay, sometimes he can look as scary as hell and it's usually when he isn't even trying; but do me a favour and don't tell him I said that. I need all the breaks I can get dealing with that nut.

'One,' he repeated.

I shrugged. 'It's your funeral, brother.'

'Uh...' Michael sucked on his teeth. 'Three... Yeah, three.'

I slid him the cards. He was kinda letting the Garibaldi side down but I wasn't going to hold it against him, even if he was wearing some screwy patterned shirt with no collar.

'Captain?'

He paused for a moment, his eyes doing a real good impression of a death ray on his cards.

'Two.'

'And dealer takes two.' I shuffled my cards around and was happier with what I found. Not that I let it show. I picked up my chips and tossed them into the pile. 'Twenty.'

John let out a breath down his nose. 'I'll see your twenty and raise you twenty.'

I whistled softly. 'Tough guy, huh?'

'Quit stalling.'

'You two play a lot of poker, huh?' Michael asked, half looking at me and John, half looking like he was trying to improve his hand through sheer force of will. I shrugged.

'Ah, you know how it goes - all those hours sitting around with nothing to do; a guy has to keep himself occupied somehow. To be honest, we're not the real aces back home - if you want to get yourself a game, Susan's your girl. I think she's really a card-sharper on the side. If our little business ever goes bust she'll make it as a hustler, no problem.'

'Remind me if we ever decide to get a game together not to invite our Susan,' Sheridan said to Michael, 'just in case.' Michael nodded. He rested one hand on the table, cards facing down and looked at me.

'You know, there's something I've been meaning to ask, because I don't still don't really get how all of this dream stuff worked. I mean, I've forgotten a lot of it and I'm not sure if what I dreamt actually happened to you guys or not.' He paused. 'That reminds me-'

'Don't even think about it,' Sheridan said softly; he didn't bother to look up.

Michael pushed his lips out again, put his eyebrows up and looked at me; he looked like he had a suspicious mind and like it was at work. I have a suspicious mind myself and it was also at work - I looked at John and he wasn't looking at anybody but he looked like he had something on his mind and I figured that whatever it was I probably didn't want to know.

I cleared my throat. 'Ask away, brother.'

'Okay.' Michael put his elbows on the table, looked at me and John. 'Did you two have a run-in with a guy named Alfred Bester?'

I sucked in a breath. Al Bester. It was one of those names that you never seem to get away from but at least these days that name was but a dim and distant memory. 'Yeah,' I said, 'yeah we knew Al Bester. A lot of people knew Al Bester but he ain't gonna be making any new friends, believe me.'

He got this look on his face the way people do when you've told them something really bad but they're actually enjoying hearing it. 'You mean he _is_ dead?'

'I hope so,' John said, 'otherwise they buried him alive.'

'Yeah... Hey, maybe we should head out to the cemetery and pay him a visit - drive a stake through his heart, just in case.'

John took a pull of his Scotch, looked at me over the rim of the glass. 'Heart? I didn't know he'd had one.'

I had to admit, he had a point there. I'd seen plenty of people bite the big one when I was a cop and usually you feel something for them at the end, even if it was a wrong guy. But not with Bester. I'd stood over him while he died and I'd felt nothing much of anything. I hadn't even felt glad - that came later. Glad isn't the right word. Satisfied, maybe, but not quite. Dying was too good for him but it had been as good as I was going to get.

'Don't tell me you boys have got a Bester running around the show.'

'Yeah, we have. And I hate his guts.' I believed him when he said it - Michael looked lean and tough and like the thought of a guy named Bester was enough to put him in the mood for ripping heads off.

'What is he, a racketeer?'

Michael opened his mouth and then looked at Sheridan; Sheridan was looking at him and didn't say anything but there was something in his face that looked like a warning. It was just for a second but it had been there. Michael leant forward, added his chips to the pile in the middle. 'Call. He's... I guess you could say that he's sort of special operations.'

'Special operations? Are you fooling?' I stared at him. That wasn't something that sounded like it would end well - not the kind of story that has you all warm and fuzzy in the final reel. Al Bester, in any form, was about as cuddly as the Wicked Witch of the West. I bet he even had his own supply of flying monkeys. 'You mean he's on your side?'

'Call.' Sheridan's chips landed on top of the others. 'I wouldn't say that. Let's just say that he works for a branch of the military that we've had cause to have dealings with before today.'

'Right.' I put my eyes on him for a moment and he looked back at me without blinking. 'You know, you missed your calling: with all that misdirection shtick you got going on you should have been a stage magician.'

Michael sniggered; out of the corner of my eye I saw John shaking his head. I shrugged. 'Look, I get it - you don't really know us; there's no reason why you shouldn't be holding out on us.'

Sheridan tapped the edge of his cards on the table and turned the X-ray beam on me again; it wasn't unfriendly, just more like he was trying to make his mind up about something. 'When you get back home-'

'You hear that? When.' I jerked my thumb at him. 'I like this guy - he's an optimist.'

'When,' he repeated, one corner of his mouth turning up. 'It would be better if you didn't tell anyone about any of this.'

'You think?' I looked at him. 'Buddy, we breathe one word of this and all three of us would find ourselves landed with one way tickets to the funny farm.'

He laughed, just a breath. 'Yes, I suppose you would. But even so... It is actually possible to alter the course of history-'

He said it like someone who has first-hand knowledge of this sort of thing - you know, as you do. Maybe he really was a stage magician; maybe he went down a storm doing his act where he sent Miss America back in time and then sawed her in half with Susan as his assistant in a nice spangly bit of nothing.

'- And if the wrong information came out at the wrong time...'

'Don't worry,' John told him, 'we won't say a word about any of it - we wouldn't dare disturb the universe.'

Sheridan put one brow up and smiled. I held out a hand.

'What is it with you? We're sitting here, regular guys, doing regular guy stuff with no interference and then you have to go dragging poetry into it.'

John leaned back in his chair and took his time coming out with his next words. 'You do realise that the fact that you recognised that line for what it was pretty much undermines your tough guy act?'

Nuts.

ooOoo

Once dinner was over, we fell into a contented companionship. I must confess to having have been somewhat in awe of Commander Susan Ivanova - women I had known who had given military service were strictly in auxiliary positions but she was a fighting soldier, just like any man in the same position. I had no doubt that she could do better than most men in the same position. It was not a life that I would wish for myself, but it was good to know that the old adage 'no job for a lady' had, finally, been proved a lie.

Once she relaxed, however, it soon became clear that there was far more to her than the rather rigid façade she presented to the world.

Delenn was even more difficult to read: she was friendly enough but she did not enter into the conversation as freely as Susan and I. Cultural differences, I surmised, and her own innate reserve. She listened and watched and gauged us. And for all her self-control and composure - which was remarkable - I wondered if she were aware of just how much of herself she revealed through her listening.

My attention had wandered - not from boredom but from curiosity about our surroundings. There was a seemingly unending supply of races; I will not attempt to describe them. Some looked close to Human, others were most definitely not. All were fascinating and I hope that I did not stare too much. A waiter was threading his way through the tables, moving with the smooth, straight grace that all waiters acquire. At least, that was how he started. One moment he was upright, gliding along, his tray perfectly balanced ... the next, it was as though someone had yanked his feet out from under him. Or, more as though he had tripped over something.

Something that would be about the height of a creature that was grey, hairy and four-footed. I looked down.

I had attached Archie's leash to my chair. I had evidently not attached it as firmly as I ought. I looked back up. The unfortunate waiter landed with a crash that, I am quite certain, they would have heard back up in the place they called the Zocalo. A table of very large personages with a great quantity of hair between them took the brunt of it.

And after that, I am sorry to say, the descent into chaos was swift.

One of the patrons stood up, grabbed the waiter by the front of his shirt and lifted him off his feet. The poor man was sent flying into another table, whose occupants took an entirely natural exception to this. The inevitable exchange of blows ensued.

I have often observed that once a fight has broken out, it takes very little for bystanders to become participants.

And then, skirting the tables and the central mêlée, came a little grey figure trotting towards me.

'Nothing to do with you, of course,' I said to him when he reached me; Archie put his front paws on my knee and buried his face between them. It was purely an act - the concept of shame is something to which he is a stranger. I sighed. 'I believe that this might be the time for us to depart.'

Susan nodded, pushing back her chair.

We hugged the walls as we made our exit, occasionally dodging missiles that smashed against the wall. I felt sorry for Carlo, who had taken such good care of us; I caught sight of him in the middle of the action, his hair on end and the collar of his shirt ripped. He looked as though were having the time of his life.

Once we had regained the outside (of the restaurant, at least - regaining the true outside would have resulted in instantaneous death without the necessary equipment), we took a few moments to collect ourselves. I smoothed my hair; Archie shook himself vehemently; Delenn adjusted her robes; Susan straightened her dress, which had started to slide off one shoulder in the course of our exit. She began to say something, then her eyes slid past us and narrowed. I glanced over my shoulder, following the line of her gaze. Two people in uniform were lurking nearby and trying to look as though they were not. They weren't very good at it.

I use the word 'people' loosely: one of the two was a young man with a ruddy complexion and fair hair; the other was... Well, he was definitely male. Very much so. His features were strong and his skin was smooth, dark and spotted. His eyes were red and I had the impression that they did not miss much.

'What is wrong?' Delenn asked, looking at Susan.

'Those two - they're watching us.'

Delenn regarded them for a moment. Another crash sounded from within. 'They may have come in response to the ... incident ... in the restaurant.'

Susan nodded. 'Uh-huh. But they're not responding to that or anything else. And I'm going to find out why.'

I pitied them. The fair-haired youth paled as she approached; his companion drew himself to his full height. They both attempted to look as though they weren't there and were no more successful than they had been at being inconspicuous. Susan stopped in front of them and I tilted my head, listening closely to catch their exchange.

'Okay; what are you two doing?'

'We're on a routine patrol, Commander,' the blond answered.

'I see. Since when was it the job of Security to follow me around, huh?'

He swallowed. 'Uh-'

'Did Captain Sheridan order you down here?'

'Uh-'

'It isn't a trick question: did Captain Sheridan order you down here to follow us?'

'It was Mister Garibaldi.' The blond's companion took the thread. Susan took a step closer.

'I see... Well. You can stand down for the night and you can tell Garibaldi that if he wants someone to keep an eye on me and my friends, he can come down here and damn well try it himself. Got that?'

She didn't wait for confirmation, simply turned on her heel and marched back to us.

'Better?' Delenn enquired.

'Much.' Susan let out a breath; she looked refreshed. 'I think I know just the place we should try next.'

I exchanged a look with Delenn and then we both followed in Susan's wake.

ooOoo

John swallowed and waited for the explosion in his head to quieten some; shutting his eyes wouldn't help, he reckoned - that would just keep the vapours in. And if he opened them they watered. He inhaled, opened his mouth and wheezed.

'What do you call that stuff again?'

'Brivari,' Sheridan told him.

He nodded. 'More like a Michael Finn.'

Mike snorted then squinted at him. 'Say, Della does know that it's actually called a Mickey Finn, doesn't she?'

'Yes, she does.' He cleared his throat; and his face got that soft look that Mike recognised as being the one that his partner always got whenever thoughts of Della entered into things. The man, in his opinion, was a lost cause. 'She just thinks that it sounds common.'

Mike grinned and shook his head.

'I remember that,' Michael said suddenly; he looked at Mike: 'You'd got a beat down off some guy you called, uh, Mercury?'

'Oh-ho, the winged messenger!' Mike's eyes glinted. 'Ain't that a blast from the past.'

'What happened to him?'

'He kept a date with Old Sparky; he won't be swinging those damn great paws of his at anyone anytime soon. And thanks for reminding me about that, by the way.'

'It was your own fault,' John said mildly.

'Jeez, will you let that go? I'd have thought that you'd have got over it by now.'

'I just don't want you going around setting any precedents,' John said, shuffling his cards and weighing up the pot in the centre of the table, 'you never know where that might lead.'

As far as double-acts went, Michael thought, theirs was first rate; the trade of insults was almost incessant but nothing could hide the warmth between the two men. He sat back in his seat and took a moment to watch the other three grouped around the table. The poker chips were seeing more action tonight than they had in the entire time since Jeff had given them to him. And that would be two lifetimes, it would seem, in which Jeff Sinclair had gone AWOL on him, and John Sheridan had stepped up to the plate. He glanced at the captain; Sheridan's face was more alive with humour than it had been for a long time. It wasn't the same, this friendship, but it didn't have to be. It was what it was. And, somehow, he didn't miss Jeff quite as much as he had thought he would.

There was silence, he realised; Michael looked up and found three pairs of eyes on him. 'What?'

'Are you calling or folding?' Sheridan asked.

'Huh? Oh, yeah, right.' He picked up his chips. 'Call. You know, I remembered something Delenn told me once, some time back. She told me how Minbari believe that souls travel in groups - kinda like reincarnation, with the same people finding each other over and over again. I figured it was just some Minbari thing but the next time that Delenn tells me something, I'm just going to go with it.'

Sheridan smiled to himself. Mike blew out a soft whistle.

'She told you that? Della said almost the self-same thing to me. Which reminds me-' he looked at John '-your girl is a welsher.'

'How do you figure?'

Mike turned over one hand. ''Cos she promised me there'd be no soul talk, see? And look what happened - the next thing I know she's got you up and married.'

'Della didn't break that promise; she hasn't mentioned the word soul once.'

'You would take her side.'

John sighed and looked at Sheridan. 'Hey, will do you me a favour?'

'Pass you the Brivari?'

'You got it, brother.'

_TBC_


	12. A Fine Romance

**ooOoo**

**A Fine Romance**

**ooOoo**

There was a crowd in the bar when they reached it, people standing at the back and spilling out into the corridor; but they seemed a friendly enough lot and Susan led her charges through, managing to locate a table that was freed up just as they arrived. Someone up there somewhere seemed to want them to have a good time. And it was still not, according to Della, a dive; this was what would be referred to as a gin-mill.

Susan left the others at the table and navigated her way back through the gin-mill towards the bar; the popularity of the place must have something to do with the singer, she thought. A sinuous figure on the stage, long dark curls framing her face, she wove a spell over the crowd. She had a good voice - far too good to be stuck in Downbelow. But you could never tell what drove someone to that place, nor what kept them there. Susan leant against the bar, waiting her turn and beating time with the music against the countertop. She gazed across the crowds, turned as someone brushed against her accidentally.

'Stephen!'

'Oh, hey.' His face creased into a smile. He looked tired, she thought, but otherwise all right. 'What are you doing here?'

'I do get some time off, you know. And after you recommended this place, I thought I'd try it out. Thanks for that, by the way, it's great.'

'Yes... Yes, it is.' His eyes slipped past her, up to the stage. He smiled again - a quiet smile, to himself. 'You're on your own?'

Susan caught the barkeeper's eye, held it pointedly; the man nodded at her, started to amble over. 'No, no, I'm here with friends. We had dinner at Pushka and decided to come on here.'

He nodded; it was a long time since he'd seen Susan looking so relaxed and it was nice to see. Stephen leant against the bar and saw another familiar face in the crowd; he turned back to Susan, incredulous. 'You're here with Delenn?'

'Yes.'

He looked again at the ambassador and Susan waited for the inevitable, waited for the moment when his attention would turn from Delenn to the woman sitting beside her. With the semi-gloom, Della's face was more sculpted by shadow and the resemblance was stronger. Stephen's eyes slid past Delenn and then- There it was, Susan, thought, the stiffening.

'What- Who is that with her?'

Susan was resigned. 'Her name is Della - Della Ramir, as was.'

'Della Ramir...' He frowned. 'Why do I know that name?'

She smiled. 'Remember Garibaldi's coma? After he got knocked out by the Narn patrolman?'

'Yes, but...' He stared across the room. 'But that- She can't-'

'She is. Upstairs we've also got an extra Sheridan and a spare Garibaldi and they're all playing poker together in the captain's quarters.'

'You're joking.' He raked her face. 'You're not joking.'

The barkeeper reached them, rested his hands heavily on the bar.

'Can I get two dry Martinis and a pitcher of lemonade? Uh, Stephen, can I get you anything?'

'What? Oh, uh...' His gaze moved from Della's table to Susan then back to the stage. Cailyn had finished her first set and her eyes found his. She smiled. 'Thanks, but, I- I have to see someone.'

Susan's lips curled slightly. 'Right.' She glanced over her shoulder; Cailyn was already heading into the wings. 'I won't keep you.'

'Yeah, yeah...' He took one last look at the two women at the table and sighed. 'It was good to see you.'

Susan studied him for a moment. 'You too; stay out of trouble.'

At the little table near the stage, Della rearranged herself on her chair and rested both elbows on the table. 'Delenn, that gentleman talking to Susan - do you know who he is?'

She followed Della's gaze. 'Yes, he is Stephen Franklin - Dr Franklin. He is head of MedLab - the medical facility here.' He was still the head; Sheridan was determined to hold the post for him for as long as was necessary. It had come as a great shock to all of them; and she had found herself missing Stephen at their various meetings. They all missed him.

Della's eyebrows rose. 'He's a doctor?'

'Yes, he is an excellent one.'

Della pursed her lips, watching the pair by the bar.

'This surprises you?'

She turned to Delenn. 'Yes, a little; but it's a good surprise. I... I know a man named Stephen Franklin, you see. He's a friend of ours - a good friend. But he certainly would not be the head of a hospital, even if he wanted to be.'

Delenn tilted her head. 'Why not?'

'Because of the colour of his skin.'

There was silence for a moment. Della had spoken quietly, her voice level; but there was anger beneath it, Delenn thought, and sadness.

'I see.' She linked her fingers together, resting her hands in her lap. 'It would seem that such prejudice stays with us, it is just the focus of it that shifts.'

'Plus ça change.'

Delenn lifted her head slightly. 'I do not know what that means.'

Della looked at her vaguely, her eyes taking a moment to focus. 'It's an expression: plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. It means the more things change, the more they remain the same.'

'That is a depressing thought.'

'Yes. Yes, it is.' Della took a breath, held it, then released it slowly. She smiled. 'But this isn't supposed to be depressing - we are supposed to be enjoying ourselves. Ah, and as if on cue...'

Susan held the tray carefully, her eyes fixed more on the gasses than the figures around her. She moved slowly. Della stood, taking the tray from her hands and placing it on the table. The Martinis, she thought resignedly, were equally generous in this establishment. If her attendant men-folk were to discover this fact, the bars of New York City may very well have a two-man coup on their hands when they returned home.

Susan settled herself, taking a sip of her drink and allowing herself the luxury of enjoying a little time of peace. Of enjoyment. She was actually enjoying herself, she realised. By the time the second round of drinks was delivered to their table she had unbent enough to allow her natural curiosity to surface. 'So, tell me, what's your Susan like?'

Della rested her chin on her hand, considering the question; she had become accustomed to playing older sister to Susan Ivanova - it was still disconcerting at times to talk to a girl of the same name and face who was now older than Della herself. 'She's a sweet girl; she's been working at the agency for about three years, she's twenty-four and thinks she knows the answer to everything.' Della smiled with affection. 'She's a little shy but doesn't like to let it show.'

She sounded a nice girl, Susan thought. An innocent. 'Is she seeing anyone? Married?'

'Oh, no.' Della dipped into her Martini. 'She dates a little but no-one serious. Well, there is Mark...'

Susan's drink hit the back of her throat and she choked; her eyes watered - watered more as Della struck her firmly between her shoulder blades.

'Are you all right?'

'Yes. Thanks. Marcus, you said?' It couldn't be, Susan told herself, it just couldn't. No woman should have to put up with Marcus Cole for more than one lifetime.

'No,' Della sat back, 'Mark. Mark Cole. He's ... a ... sweet ... boy, if a little ... odd.' There was a pause as she attempted to find words that would do justice to Mark Cole but apparently decided that 'sweet but odd' was the best she was going to do. She smiled vaguely and took refuge in her drink.

'She dates this Mark Cole?'

'I believe that he has taken her out once or twice; he asks her to marry him once a month but she hasn't taken him up on it yet and I doubt that she will. They're not really...' Her hands moved in opposite directions as though trying to fit the fingers together and failing. 'Besides, Susan - our Susan - is more interested in her job, which takes up most of her time, and the rest is devoted to her family.'

Susan's breath caught. 'Her family?'

'Yes, her parents. Andrei and Sophia? They're such a lovely couple- Susan?'

Della stared in alarm at the other woman's face; her cheeks had drained of colour, her eyes fixed. One hand gripped the stem of her glass so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

Her parents... Her _mother_... And Della said it so lightly, talking about these people. The shock of it was so great that for a moment Susan couldn't breathe. Not her parents, she reminded herself, not really hers; they belonged to that other girl. The sweet girl in the red dress who was a little shy and didn't like to let it show.

'They're alive? And they're happy? Her-her mother, she's all right?' Susan's voice was thick, words forced past the tightness in her throat.

'Yes. Yes, they're both... They're fine.'

Delenn took hold of Susan's free hand, warming the cold fingers between her own. 'It is a good thing,' she said softly. 'In that world, your parents still live. This is a good thing, and you should take comfort in the knowledge that somewhere, in some place, they are together. They are able to enjoy their lives, and each other, and their daughter.'

Susan nodded, tried to smile against the threat of tears. 'I know; I know that.' She took a deep breath and looked at Della's stricken face. 'My parents are both dead; my mother ... my mother died a long time ago.'

'I'm sorry. I-I didn't know...'

'It's fine. Really.' Susan smiled tightly at Delenn; she squeezed Delenn's fingers briefly and then reclaimed her hand; she wiped the moisture from her eyes. 'It's okay... What about Ganya? Is he there?'

Della frowned, glancing uncertainly between the two women and dreading inflicting any more pain, however inadvertently. 'I don't know who that is.'

'Ganya,' Susan repeated. 'My- Her brother.'

'Susan doesn't have a brother; it's always just been her and her parents.'

'Oh.' It was like a kaleidoscope – pictures forming and replaced by others before you could even grasp the first; how many versions were there? she wondered. And in any of them, would it be possible to have everything?

'She always wanted a brother,' Della said helplessly, and felt helpless against the stream of words from her own mouth. 'I mean my Susan always wanted a brother - but she says now she has John and even Mike so it's sort of like having two brothers.'

Susan's lips pulled back in the approximation of a smile. 'Yes; John does brotherly very well.' She still missed Ganya, still talked to him at times. But she had had him, even if only for a little while. She had had that. Susan brushed at her cheeks impatiently. 'Are you close to your family?' she asked Della, the first question that came to mind.

'To my sister, yes.'

'And your parents?'

'They're both gone.' It was said softly, without inflection, but the warning was unmistakable.

It wasn't a lie, Della told herself, just a deflection: she really had lost both parents, even if one of them was still alive. She wondered, not for the first time, if she would ever see her mother again and reflected that she didn't care one way or the other.

'Now I'm sorry,' Susan said.

'Oh, please, don't be.' Della looked at Delenn. 'I'm not going to ask, don't worry.'

Delenn smiled. 'What is your sister's name?'

'Maya.'

'Maya...' She felt a little winded again. 'I have no sister; most Minbari families have only one child – many have none at all. But I have a dear friend whom I have known since childhood – Mayan.'

Della raised her eyebrows, blew out a breath between pursed lips. 'You know, I'm not actually at a loss for words all that often...' If she never saw Maya again... That would hurt; she couldn't bear to think about that. Della shivered involuntarily, suddenly cold.

'Maybe we should talk about something else,' Susan suggested.

'Yes, please.' Della straightened. 'What do you think of Mike?'

Susan blinked. 'What?'

'Mike. What do you- Oh, I was never good at all that subterfuge, so I'll just lay it out. Mike paid me ten dollars to talk him up, so here it is. He's a good man. He works hard and he's not as uncouth and hardboiled as he likes to pretend he is; he loves opera. He's reasonably dependable and mainly sober and I've never seen him go so far out of his way over a woman before.' She spread her hands and shrugged. 'That's it. Possibly not the most romantic speech I have ever made, but sometimes romance has to give way to practicalities and I refuse to play Cyrano de Bergerac for him.' Della looked at Susan expectantly. 'Anything I can take back to him?'

Susan drained her glass and felt her cheeks burning; she tried to think of an answer – any answer – when she heard herself say, 'He is sort of cute.'

Della looked at Delenn and nodded. 'Sort of cute. Well, it's a start. I've known couples build relationships on far less.'

Susan laughed. 'Less than one of them thinking the other is sort of cute?' Her cheeks flared again.

'Oh yes. I don't know how things have changed in that respect but where- I suppose I should say _when_ I come from, people don't really ... emote ... all that much. Although, having said that, we were actually married for less than twenty-four hours before John told me he loved me.'

'He told you this only after you were married?' Delenn asked; that did not sound like the normal way of things. But they seemed so happy.

'I was quite surprised that he was so quick off the mark about it.' Della smiled at the memory. And he had told her that he loved her every day since then, but that part was strictly between themselves.

Delenn studied the glass between her hands, steeling herself to ask a question that she felt was a presumption, but Della's openness emboldened her. 'May I ask you something?'

'Yes, of course.'

There was a momentary hesitation, then: 'The name that he calls you ... plaything ... I do not understand. This is a Human endearment? I have not heard of this before.'

'Oh...' A smile played at Della's lips; she ducked her head. 'It started as a joke, really; it means a toy, a bauble, something of no consequence... He calls me that because ... well, because I'm the opposite of those things to him.'

It was extraordinary, Susan thought: this poised, sophisticated woman of the world and yet she blushed like a schoolgirl when she talked about her husband. The commander looked at her speculatively.

'So, just how long have you and John been married?'

'A little over a year; we had our anniversary in April, actually.'

Susan smiled. 'You must have known each other a long time.'

'Uh...' Della tilted her head, her lips pursing again. 'Not exactly.'

ooOoo

I was keeping one eye on my own hand and one eye on Mike's - just to make sure that he didn't do anything like switch a three for a jack that he had hidden up his sleeve or something like that. Mike leaned both his elbows on the table and looked at me over the top of his cards.

'By the way, I've made a decision.'

'Uh-huh.'

He shrugged. 'And as you're the closest thing I've got to family, which is a depressing thought but we won't dwell on it, I'm telling you first - I'm getting married.'

'Uh-huh. To whom?'

'Susan Ivanova – Commander.' He sounded pretty pleased with himself. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sheridan and Garibaldi exchange looks; I guess that for them we were about the best entertainment to have hit that place in a long while.

'Uh-huh.' I finished fiddling with my hand and was pretty happy with what I had. 'Does she know about this yet?'

'Nah.' Mike was in his shirtsleeves but still had his hat on; apparently he thinks better with than without, and in my opinion it's debatable whether he thinks at all. 'I thought I'd surprise her with it. Besides, she's got a lot on her mind; I figure it's probably best to tell her when it's a done deal.'

I rested my elbows on the table and sneaked a look at Garibaldi who looked like he was trying very hard not to hear the conversation. 'I see; you mean, sort of marry her behind her back?'

Mike snorted and then made a show of shaking his head sadly. 'See, that's your problem right there – you have no sense of romance.'

Sheridan was sitting back in his chair, his arms folded and wasn't even pretending not to laugh at us.

'Remind me - how long have you known this girl?'

Mike was just about getting into his stride on the annoying stakes and he knew it; he grinned at me. 'You're just getting sore 'cos I'm breaking your record.'

'Will you knock it off already?'

He held up a hand. 'Hey, just because you're ashamed-'

I could feel my face tighten and I knew where he was headed. I tried working out the odds of my being able to head him off and figured that they weren't good. A long shot wouldn't even cover it. 'I have nothing to be ashamed of.'

'Right.' His grin was nasty; he looked at Sheridan and then jerked his head at me. 'Has he told you how long he knew Della before they got married?'

Sheridan's eyes slipped to me then back to Mike. 'Uh-'

'Mike...'

'Didn't think so. See? Shame.'

'Mike!' I breathed down my nose then added mildly, 'People always get the wrong idea.'

He pushed the brim of his hat until it was sitting on the back of his head; I resisted the urge to jam the damn thing down round his neck. 'You mean the wrong idea as in they get the idea that you met a girl and married her a week later?'

'It was longer than a week.'

'Oh, yeah, 'cos those two days make all the difference.'

'Whoa - back up.' Garibaldi was staring at me. 'You knew each other for nine days?'

'More or less.'

'There's no more or less about it, brother,' Mike said helpfully, 'nine is the magic number.'

I braced myself and looked at Sheridan; he looked like someone had sucker-punched him. 'I've known Delenn...' His shoulders sagged. 'God, I've known her for two years.'

I felt for the guy; and sometimes I still have a hard time believing that it happened the way it happened but then I look at Della sleeping beside me and remember exactly why it did. 'Look, I know that- Della and I- It's just the way it worked out. I mean, I think it's good to take your time about these things.'

'Hypocrite.'

'Shut up.'

Mike tilted his head at me. 'Are you playing that hand or not?'

ooOoo

In the silence that followed I was grateful for the reappearance of the singer for her next set. She moved smoothly into a song that I recognised and I wondered vaguely at the coincidence. I was also grateful for the reappearance of one of the bar staff, who had supplied us with more refreshments. I took a sip, replaced my glass on the table and waited for someone to say something.

'You-' Delenn stopped, swallowed, and then tried again. 'You eloped?'

'Yes, I suppose we did. I hadn't really thought of it that way.'

'But-' She shook her head. 'Was this not frowned upon by your family?'

My family had tended to frown upon me before that for reasons of which I am not entirely certain but are all concerned with my mother - of whom we last heard as being in Buenos Aires. Maya was delighted to have John as a brother-in-law and as she is the only one of my blood family whose opinion matters, it worked out very well. As for the rest of them... John insists that my Aunt Lucy thinks that he's a bootlegger, which is simply not-

No, actually that is true.

'There was some talk for a while,' I replied, 'and a few gossip columns had fun with it for a couple of weeks, but-' I shrugged '-they soon got bored. Anyway, these days you're practically falling over society girls who ran off with their chauffeurs - I rang the changes by running off with a detective but as he's from a good family it wasn't considered all that scandalous. I take it that elopements are not common for your people.'

Delenn was looking at me intently; rather, she seemed to be looking through me, seeing something that wasn't there with us. 'They are not. It would bring disgrace on their families, on their clans...'

'Ah, I see.' For us that would be considered an old-fashioned attitude but I sensed that for Minbari tradition, duty and honour - and the appearance of all those things - were extremely important.

'Weren't you scared?' Susan asked suddenly. She had folded her arms and was leaning on them, looking at me; and suddenly she looked terribly young and terribly alone.

'Of what?'

'Of-of marrying someone like that. Just- You barely knew each other.'

I had the clear impression that for Susan the idea of marriage to anyone, or even just letting anyone in too far, was terrifying.

'Perhaps I should have been but I wasn't; I don't think either one of us thought much about what was wrong or difficult or even stupid and only about what felt right.'

Delenn's head had lifted further; she watched me and I knew that she understood perfectly well what I meant.

'It didn't seem as though we had known one another for such a short time and... Well, it just happened. And here we are.' The singer had eased her way through a number of familiar standards and as I sat back and enjoyed my drink some of the words of her current number filtered through.

_'...We should be like a couple of hot tomatoes; but you're as cold as yesterday's mashed potatoes...'_

Cold was not the word I would have used for Captain Sheridan and Delenn; when they looked at each other they burned; when they were together the air between them crackled; any small electrical storms in the vicinity could no doubt be traced back to their making. But there was something off - as though each were holding their breath and waiting for the other to release it first. I leant forward.

'Now it's my turn - may I ask you something?'

Delenn smiled and nodded but her eyes were watchful.

'You can tell me to mind my own business - I won't be offended - but just what is going on between you and the captain?'

Her cheeks paled and then a deep flush crept up them; I glanced at Susan and she was watching Delenn.

'I-I do not know what you mean.'

'I mean just that: what is going on? When I first met you both- I should say, when I first saw you together, I thought that you were a couple.' Not to mention that fact that the captain looked as though he would have preferred to hang a sign around her neck reading 'She's mine - hands off'. I'm not sure what the equivalent Minbari phrase would be but I'm sure that Delenn would have applied it to him. 'But you aren't, are you? I mean, not quite.'

Her lips compressed - not with anger but with an attempt to gather herself; she also glanced at Susan and found no help from that quarter. She sighed. 'It is complicated.'

_TBC_


	13. Round Midnight

**ooOoo**

**'Round Midnight**

**ooOoo**

'...And everything was real quiet and then I said, "Hey, don't step on it - it might be Lon Chaney!"' Mike slapped one hand on the table, laughing at his own joke. John regarded him sourly, shaking his head. 'Aw, c'mon – that's funny.'

'Yeah, that joke was last funny in about nineteen-twenty-seven.'

'Ah, what do you know? You've got no sense of humour. Anyhow, the old ones are the best and that one's a classic.' He turned to Michael. 'Back me up here, buddy.'

'Uh...' Michael looked at Sheridan and a brief, silent communication passed between the two; Sheridan shrugged lightly.

'Okay – I guess it's my turn. Who's Lon Chaney?'

Mike stared at him, astounded. 'Who's Lon Chaney? Are you fooling? C'mon – Lon Chaney.' He blew out a whistle and looked at Sheridan as though he had fallen, irrevocably, in his estimation. 'You're telling me that you know how to fly a spaceship but you don't know who Lon Chaney is?'

Sheridan's eyes crinkled in amusement. 'I don't see how those two things are related.'

'But you know Abbott and Costello...' Mike grinned. 'Obviously.'

The captain was unmoved; he returned the gaze levelly and with no trace of self-consciousness. 'Obviously.'

Mike settled again, evidently satisfied with himself; Sheridan watched him for a moment, a quirk still at his lips, then returned to his cards.

'I think I would have liked to have been a detective,' Michael said after a while.

'You've already got the hat,' Sheridan observed.

'Hey – that is a great hat.'

'I didn't say anything against your hat.'

'Well...' Michael tilted his head sharply, working out a kink in his neck, 'that's okay then.'

'It's not a bad business, I guess,' Mike said. 'The hours are lousy, most of the clients are pains in the ass and a lot of them start out either crying on you or trying to get tough on you. Then by the end, the criers get tough and the tough-guys start bawling.' He shrugged. 'Them's the breaks. Anyhow, why would you want to be a detective with what you got going on here?'

Michael looked at him. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean this.' Mike looked around. 'Chief of Security? Okay, so I guess you have your problems – who doesn't - but you can't tell me that this isn't a good gig. I mean, I made it to lieutenant and that was it, I was never going to be Chief of Detectives. I gotta tell ya – when I fetched up in this tin-can I came in for a lot of reflected glory. I thought it was just people's good taste responding to my obvious charisma but then I worked out that it was because they thought I was you. I'd say you're doing all right.'

The one break he had managed not to blow. So far. The job he did here, who he was here – it mattered to him far more than he liked to admit to anyone, even to himself. 'Yeah,' Michael said quietly, 'yeah, I guess so.'

'Plus, you get to play with ray-guns.'

John blew out a breath, 'I'm telling you this for the last time – there are no ray-guns.'

Mike scowled at him. 'What is it with you? You want to spoil all my fun? Can't a man dream?' He looked at Sheridan and Michael. 'Okay, let's just pretend that big lug ain't here; you two, please tell me that there is at least one of those planets inhabited solely by Amazon types who are in desperate need of a good healthy male population.'

Michael groaned slightly. 'Oh man, if only...'

Sheridan shook his head and bit back a smile. 'No... But there is the Mars Pleasure Dome.'

'Pleasure Dome, huh?' Mike considered this. 'That sounds good; I can work with that. Y'know what? For my next birthday, you can skip the socks and the bottle of Scotch and the usual stuff – just get me a one way ticket to that joint and I'll be a happy man.'

John regarded him levelly. 'You'll be getting a one way ticket somewhere, trust me. Then I'll be a happy man.'

'You're getting grouchy in your old age, you know that?'

Michael leant across to Sheridan and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, 'Is it just me, or do they sound like an old married couple?'

Sheridan returned his look, stricken. 'If this is what I've got to look forward to with you...'

'Hey, you could do a lot worse.' Michael laughed, sat back in his chair. 'Nuts. That's it – I fold.'

'You and me both,' John said, tossing his cards onto the table. He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head and working his thumbs against the knot in his neck; his eyes felt raw from the dim light and cigarette smoke. And somewhere along the line, he had noticed, Mike had switched to that non-alcoholic stuff that Michael was drinking; no big deal about it, it had just happened. A sign of solidarity, perhaps. He smiled to himself. Mike could be surprisingly sympathetic and surprisingly subtle at times.

'Looks like it's just you and me, brother,' Mike said, looking across the table at Sheridan.

'Hm?' The captain looked up at him vaguely. 'Oh... Yes... Uh... I'll see you and raise you. Fifty.'

'Fifty?' Mike whistled. 'Okay, but it's your funeral.'

Sheridan's eyebrows lifted fractionally. 'Are you going to play or talk?'

John met Michael's eyes and grinned at him. 'Want to place a side bet?'

Michael flicked his gaze between Sheridan and Mike. 'All right – ten?'

'You're on.'

'There's your fifty; and I'll raise you another fifty.'

Sheridan glanced down at his cards, tossed in the chips. 'I'll see you.'

Mike took a long breath in through his nose, held it and then released it; he eased himself forward and with deliberation placed the cards, face up, on the table, one by one. 'Read 'em and weep. Aces and eights – Dead Man's Hand.' He put his elbows on the table. 'And that's how it's done.'

Sheridan stared at the cards, stony. 'Not bad.'

'You got that right. Aw, c'mon – show me yours. It's only fair.'

'Yeah... I guess.' Sheridan dropped them onto the table.

Michael had rocked back on the back legs of his chair – it fell forward with a thud. 'I'll be damned.'

John laughed, looking as though he were enjoying as much as if it had been his own hand. 'Buddy, it looks like you're a dead man in more ways than one. And that's ten you owe me,' he added to Michael.

Mike's cheeks puffed up; the breath came out in a stream through pursed lips. 'Nuts. Damn, it looks like you really are The Hand.'

'What?' Sheridan's smile faded. 'What did you say?'

'I said, you really are The Hand – 'cos you've that whole talking hand thing going on and you've just busted me with an aces high flush...' There was a strange, tight, white look across Sheridan's face. Mike looked at the other two; John shrugged.

'Are you okay?' Michael frowned. Sheridan looked winded, almost dizzy.

'Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing. Just, uh...' He shook his head sharply. 'It just reminded me of something, that's all.'

'And that reminds me,' John said, 'what time is it?' He stared at his watch and tried to get his eyes to focus on the dial.

'Hey, look at him all concerned,' Mike said. 'It warms the heart, doesn't it?'

'I was just wondering how they're getting on,' John protested.

'One of these days,' Mike said, shuffling the cards expertly, 'I'm going to keep you two apart for twenty-four hours, just to see what happens.'

ooOoo

I had been a little unsteady on my feet as we walked through the corridors: not due to the effect of the Martinis, I hasten to add, but due to the fact that Susan was heavier than she looked. I was on one side of her and Delenn was on the other – I am no weakling and Delenn is considerably stronger than you would have thought – but we still kept tripping over Archie and Susan's feet as we manouevred her back to her quarters.

I was also, by then, in possession of far more information about the anatomy of Centauri males than I had ever wanted to be, but the less said about that the better.

'Lift your arms up.' Susan obeyed and I pulled her dress up and over her head with what I like to think of as efficiency. It would not be the first time that I had performed such a service. She swayed slightly from side to side.

'Guess it's time to say goodnight,' she said, with the studied deliberation of the inebriate.

'Yes, it is.'

'If you want to send Mike in to say goodnight, that's fine. He's cute.'

I could, in all honesty, have sent Mike along with a clear conscience; he's not the sort of man to take advantage of a woman under any circumstances. Susan would have been perfectly safe with him; whether Mike would have been safe with her was another question.

'Perhaps you should lie down,' I suggested; before you fall down, I added mentally.

Susan crawled under the covers and Delenn brought in the pitcher of water and the glass I had asked for – we had already poured the best part of one pitcher's worth down the wavering commander.

'Will she be all right?' she asked, looking down at Susan.

'She'll live. That will be an impressive headache in the morning, but the water will help.'

So we left her to sleep it off and wandered back through the corridors until we reached a small garden that had an Oriental air. I let Archie off the leash and he trotted off to find some privacy. I felt a little guilty about Susan: I was glad to have got to know her but I had really only invited her with us as a buffer between Delenn and I, just in case. I had used the poor girl – but she did appear to have enjoyed herself. I sat down on one of the benches and looked around: it was a pretty place and peaceful.

'Is this the place you met John?' I asked; her eyes widened a little. 'My John, I mean.'

'Oh... Yes. It was here.'

A vague memory stirred: when we had all been reunited I was quite sure that Delenn had mentioned to the captain something about looking for him when she had found John. This place, the garden, was important to her, I thought - to both of them.

'That must have been quite a shock; at least I had the benefit of a warning from Susan first before I saw Captain Sheridan or you.'

The material of her robes sighed as she moved. 'It was, as you say, most surprising.'

We looked at one another for a moment and then we both smiled and Delenn sat on the bench beside me.

'It isn't even quite like seeing twins, is it? It isn't just a physical resemblance, it's... It's like meeting _him_ for the first time all over again: the same thoughts, the same feeling. As though...' I sighed and remembered that day I had walked into that dingy office, wholly unprepared for what would happen when I crossed the threshold and saw John Sheridan for the first time. 'As though all of a sudden you've fallen but you know that this other person...'

'Will always catch you,' she concluded softly.

'Yes!' I smiled at her. 'Yes, that's it exactly.'

The story that Delenn had outlined earlier had been vague in the extreme but not entirely unfamiliar: a war during which they had been on opposing sides; the responsibilities and expectations of their respective ranks; the cultural and racial differences... Her eyes had kept darting to Susan uneasily, expecting censure or disapproval, possibly. None had been forthcoming. It was, I thought, a little like our own G.I.s who had married German or Japanese women after the war, only on a larger scale.

Or perhaps not a larger scale - such problems still seemed to be the same, no matter who you were or where you were.

I had put forward the notion - which I stand by - that another factor in what was evidently a delay in their romantic progress may be that men take their time over the relationships that are important to them. Susan and Delenn both had looked at me with incredulity. I had to admit that John and I are not exemplars of that - rather, we could be thought of as being the exception that proves the rule. Susan, at least, had supported my initial premise - eventually.

I also remembered my conversation with Captain Sheridan earlier that day: he may have been talking to me, but he was certainly thinking of Delenn. I would be willing to put money on his conducting the majority of his conversations in such a condition - and I am not a betting woman.

'We must seem very strange to you,' I remarked after a moment's silence, 'we seem strange to a lot of people back home, so I can only imagine how what Mike terms the Nine Day Wonder must appear to you.'

Delenn did not reply immediately: her lips pressed together and her eyes focussed on a point in mid-air before she met my eyes again. 'It was unexpected - such things are very ... Human, to me. It is not always easy to understand.'

'Mm. Yes, I can see that. But you and the captain seem to do all right. I know this isn't really my place to say it, but it is fairly obvious how you feel about one another.'

'Is it?' She shook her head. 'We have become ... close ... over the past year, this is true. Very close. I- Lately, it has changed. I do not mean that John has changed towards me... He does not avoid me; we talk, but it- It is as though there is something on his mind, something he wishes to say but does not know how.'

'Perhaps he needs a little encouragement,' I suggested.

Delenn's lips compressed again as she thought it over. 'I do not discourage him.'

'Ah, now that is not quite the same thing. Men may like to think that they like subtle but they don't; sometimes you have to be more direct.'

This idea amused her. 'Humans have a chaotic approach to your relationships; it is not this way for Minbari. When Minbari become close there are rituals that we follow that have been performed for thousands of years; each step is marked by the correct ritual to be performed at the correct time.' She sighed. 'It is far less complicated, less confusing that way.'

'Yes, it must be. It also sounds a lot less fun.'

She made a small noise at the back of her throat, her hands linking together neatly in her lap. 'Some of the rituals are, I believe, what you would call "fun".'

'Oh... Oh, I see.' I thought that I might have to revise my opinion of Minbari courtships.

Her cheeks warmed slightly. 'I have never undergone them myself.'

Archie reappeared, trotting back to us; he lay down at my feet, chin resting on his paws. I nudged him gently with the toe of my shoe. 'It's been quite a day for you, hasn't it?' He raised his head, looked at me, and put his head back down. 'I suppose that we do have rituals ourselves; we just don't call them rituals.' I thought about it. 'There's the First Date Ritual - exciting and awkward and you try desperately hard to make a good impression. I suppose there's the Joke Telling Ritual - the man tries to make the woman laugh; if he succeeds it's usually a good sign.' I noticed her eyes sparkle at that; I wondered if I should warn her that the jokes would probably keep coming, especially when you're trying to get to sleep but reasoned that she would, no doubt, discover that for herself soon enough. 'Oh, there's also the Flower Giving Ritual - that's a nice one. A bouquet or even just one bloom: it's always a sign that he's interested.' I smiled. 'I don't think that you can count a man cooking for you as a ritual, but it ought to be.'

There was another look in her eyes then, soft and tender - the sort that speaks of happy memories. 'The last time that John and I had dinner together, he cooked the meal.'

'He cooked?'

She nodded.

'Was it terrible?'

Her shoulders stiffened. 'It... Ah..'

I nodded. 'It was terrible. John can't cook either but he can scramble eggs.' I smiled again - rather dreamily, I fear. 'And he does very good toast and coffee.'

There was a faint laugh. 'It was not the best of meals; at least, the food was not the best. But I had not gone for the food.' Her smile had been radiant; it faded somewhat.

I had made a terrible mistake, I thought, with that whole evening.

'Oh, Delenn, I'm sorry.'

Her head moved, her brow wrinkling. 'For what?'

'You don't get to spend much time together, do you? You both might have had the time tonight and I've monopolised you horribly.'

'No...' Delenn turned, facing me fully. 'It was, as you said, an opportunity for us to know one another, you and I. I am glad of it; I would not have missed that.'

'I'm glad, too.' It was quiet in the little garden, and in the silence I could hear a distant, regular throb, like the workings of a great engine. It was a constant reminder of where we were and what that place was. And of what lay beyond it. I studied Delenn once more, her face, and felt my skin prickle. It was a strange sensation, as though looking into a mirror in which everything was a little distorted; and yet, despite that distortion - or, perhaps, because of it - everything could be seen more clearly than usual. 'It isn't always easy, is it? to find someone to whom you can talk - really talk, about the things that matter. Someone with whom you have an ... affinity.'

Her shoulders, always held so proudly, sagged a little; her expression was wistful and I knew that she was thinking of things that I could never truly understand - thinking of all the things that she had lost. But one thing, at least, that she had gained. 'No, it is not easy.'

I nodded and I couldn't stop looking at her. 'I was brought up to believe that we are only given one life, one chance. That always struck me as being a little unfair.'

Delenn released a breath, her gaze moving from me, upwards, to the dome overhead and the stars beyond it. 'Minbari believe that our souls are reborn over successive lifetimes.'

'It looks right your people are correct.'

I recalled a vow I had made - 'til death us to part; not even then, it would seem.

I shook myself. 'You know, tonight is not over yet - there is still some time and the least I can do is try to make amends.'

Delenn blinked, startled. 'I...' She shook her head vaguely.

'I mean for you and the captain. If I know John and Mike - and I like to think that I do - the game will still be going strong.'

'Still? But it is very late, is it not?'

I was breezy. 'Oh, this is nothing. I've seen games go on until six-thirty the following morning; you know what men are - they like to stay up late and prove their independence.' I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye; if she had had an eyebrow to arch, it would have been arched well and truly. 'My nonchalance isn't fooling you, is it?'

'No.' She was trying not to smile. 'Not any longer.'

'Hm, that's what I thought. Look, you stay here,' I stood up and Archie started, yapping irritably at me, 'and I'll make sure that Captain Sheridan makes his way here; by now I'm sure that a stroll in the garden will be most welcome.' Her lips had parted but I did not give her the time to object - even half-heartedly. I collected my purse and started for the doorway, Archie grumbling along behind me. 'Now, you stay right there.'

'Della-'

'Well, if you're not here when he arrives, I will look like the most terrible liar and I'll be in disgrace.'

Her eyes narrowed slightly; I smiled cheerfully and left before she could say anything. It was, I admit, an underhanded piece of work, but if there is one thing that I have learned from John it is that you have to play a little dirty sometimes to get your own way.

ooOoo

Booze with the booze part taken out doesn't taste much like anything I've tasted before and wouldn't want to taste again. But I guess that new experiences are character building. Or something.

'You don't have to drink that stuff, you know,' Michael said to me, looking pointedly at my glass.

'What, this? It's great. Refreshing.' I took a slug. 'See? Better than all that Scotch - that takes the lining right off your stomach. A few more days like this and I'll be a new man.'

'That's got to be an improvement on the old one,' John commented. He'd taken off his jacket to show off his nice red suspenders and a shirt so white it looked like someone had dipped it in whitewash. If the light had been any brighter I would have needed dark glasses against the glare.

I jerked my head at him. 'He'd clown in the electric chair.'

Sheridan laughed some and looked at me and looked like he had a well-known phrase or saying in mind containing the words pot, kettle and black and I have to admit that he had me there. We'd switched from Stud to a little Hold 'em and I'd just dealt the turn when the doorbell decided to join in and for a moment we all looked at each other like it was the most surprising thing we'd ever heard. It was Sheridan's show so we didn't even to draw lots to see who got to answer it.

'Who is it?'

The voice came back: _'It is I - Della.'_

The door swung open and Archie ran in, ran around the table a bunch of times, jumped up and licked John's face, then flung himself onto the couch. At some point Della sashayed in, looking like she'd just dropped in from one of those ritzy charity dos she goes to instead of having just come from slumming it in some joint in a place that was, by all accounts, the wrong side of salubrious. She was still vertical and putting one foot in front of the other no problem, but then she's a lady and that's what you'd expect. We all started rattling our chairs about and she waved her hands at us.

'Oh, please, don't get up.'

'Nice night, plaything?' John just about managed to pull off unconcerned, looking down at his cards but I'd got to know his dopey look at twenty yards so I could spot it no problem when I was that close.

'Lovely, thank-you.'

'Where's the rest of the wrecking crew?' I asked.

'Oh, Delenn is around somewhere. Susan went to bed.'

Sheridan frowned. 'Is she okay?'

'She's fine. She ... decided to have an early night.'

'Oh.' The captain exchanged looks with Michael of the knowing sort.

'Maybe you should take her shift in the morning,' Michael said.

Sheridan snorted. 'Or maybe not.'

Michael grinned. 'Teaching her a lesson, huh?'

'Well, she's got to learn sometime.'

I leaned back, put my hands behind my head and looked at Della expectantly. 'So, what did you girls talk about?'

She raised one eyebrow an eighth of an inch. 'Did your name come up, you mean?'

'I mean.'

Della sighed and did that stiff thing that she does sometimes. 'She thinks you're cute.'

I grinned. 'I am cute.'

'You're not that cute,' John said.

Michael and Sheridan both sniggered: from the latter guy I expected it but from the former guy I considered it treason. You can't trust anybody in this sorry world. But Della had earned her ten bucks so I offered her a drink; her eyes lighted on the bottle of giggle-juice with the fancy gold on it.

'How pretty - what is it?'

'I've never actually had moonshine,' John told her, 'but I think that's its near relative.'

Her lips pushed out a little and she looked sceptical; I poured her a slug and handed it over. Della sniffed at it delicately and took a mouthful. She did okay for about two seconds and then her eyes went wide.

'Swallow, baby, swallow,' John said, patting her on the back. She took his advice and looked like she regretted it; she spluttered some and coughed. John kept his hand on her back. 'Little girl's never had a drink before,' he told us.

'Idiot,' Della said, kind of indistinct because the word was stuck in the back of her throat. She coughed again and wiped her eyes. 'That reminds me - Captain, may I have a word with you?' She looked at him and inclined her head towards the door.

He looked surprised - either because she had turned the full beam of her grey peepers on him again, or because calling her husband an idiot had somehow reminded her of him.

'Uh...' He looked at John, who was busy minding his own business on his side of the table. 'Yes, of course.'

'Are you in or out?' I asked.

Sheridan glanced at Della and must have seen some clue there that I didn't. 'Out.'

Michael immediately picked up the pair that our host had abandoned and put his eyebrows up. 'Hey, that's too bad - you had a pretty nice hand there.' And he sounded real sympathetic, too.

'And if you'd stayed in,' John said to Sheridan, 'he might actually have waited until you'd gone before he did that.'

'And don't I know it,' he replied wryly.

He and Della showed themselves out and I wondered how long they'd stick you in the clink for, for ear-wigging on a captain: I never got the chance to even ask before a couple of minutes later - not even - the door opened and Della came back in, flying solo.

'What did you do? Vaporise him with a ray-gun?' I asked. John muttered something under his breath, which is a habit he has sometimes.

'Captain Sheridan was called away to a meeting,' she said, real level, and if I hadn't known her as well as I did I might actually have believed her.

Michael squinted at her. 'A meeting? Now?'

'Yes. But he asked me to tell you that you're quite welcome to stay for as long as you like.'

I can do basic math okay and it didn't take a genius to add two and two together - the first two being Miss America wandering around all on her lonesome and the second two being that convenient meeting that had set the captain off fast enough to break a land-speed record.

John narrowed his eyes some and looked at her along them. 'What are you up to?'

'Who, me?' She was all wide eyes and innocence - just like one of those slinky dames in the flicks just before they lure you to your doom.

'Yeah, you.'

'Nothing.' She leant one hand on the back of his chair and he got an eyeful of her figure and I didn't hear him complaining.

'Did I tell you two I met a bird floating around this gig named - get this - Londo Mollari? No fooling. He's an ambassador, can you believe that? He's a, uh, a...'

'Centauri,' Michael told me.

'Centauri,' I told them.

Della got this funny look on her face but she shook it off. 'Well, I'll see your Londo Mollari and raise you one Stephen Franklin. Or, make that Doctor Stephen Franklin.'

If my ears could have pricked up they would have done. 'Whoa - Doc's a doc?'

'He is - he's head of the medical facility here.'

John looked pleased. 'It looks like there's some good in this brave new world of yours after all. How was he?'

Della's head tilted to one side a fraction. 'He looked a little tired - I didn't actually talk to him. Apart from anything else I believe that he was a little ... distracted ... by the singer.'

John grinned. 'And on the other hand, some things never change.'

We indulged in some manly, knowing sniggers that Della pretended not to hear. She bent over John's shoulder to get a look at his hand; he held them to his chest and looked reproachful then gave it up and let her have a squint at them. She took a good look, looked at the board then back at him and shook her head.

I would tell you the way they looked at each other but some of you may have just eaten.

'I fold.' He paused. 'Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure.' He hauled himself up; Archie yawned, sprang off the couch and made for the door like a sailor on shore-leave after a showgirl. John hooked his jacket over one shoulder, looked at me and Michael and looked like he found what he saw mighty amusing. 'I hope you two behave.'

Della rolled her eyes and grabbed a handful of his shirtfront, pulling him along behind her. 'Come on, you big flatfoot.' She dragged him through the door without too much of a struggle - or any kind of struggle - and then made a brief reappearance, smiling sweetly and radiating satisfaction. 'Goodnight.'

The door slipped shut; I put my eyes on Michael and put my eyebrows up. 'Was it something I said?'

Michael laughed and threw down his cards. 'Why don't we knock this on the head? I can't see straight.'

'You're out of training, brother,' I said; I leant back and put my feet up on the table.

'You can say that again.' It was nice and peaceful for a moment, just two working stiffs enjoying a bit of nothing for a while. Michael had his head tilted back and looked at me down his eyes with the look of a man who has something on his mind.

'Spill, brother.'

'Do you want to hear about my second favourite thing in the universe?'

I thought of Susan Ivanova, either in her uniform or out of it but figured that that probably wasn't what he was talking about.

_TBC_


	14. Dancing in the Dark

**ooOoo**

**Dancing In The Dark**

**ooOoo**

Sheridan had come to know the route from his quarters to the Zen garden better than any other; he could follow it without thinking, finding himself there before even being aware of his intended destination. But always looking for something. Someone. He knew it better than the route to the Command Deck, to the War Room - to any of the places that defined what he was: soldier, leader, governor. If your life were to be defined by the paths you knew best, what would this one say about him?

And tonight he had started on it even before realising; his feet had been moving before his mind had had a chance to catch up. Della Sheridan had not been exaggerating when she had said she was persistent. Not that she had needed to be.

'Captain.' She had smiled with a familiar serenity - and a familiar playfulness, though in her it was more pronounced. 'I understand that earlier today Ambassador Delenn had attempted to convene a meeting with you.'

The air in the corridor was noticeable for its freshness after the fug that had built up in his quarters; he took a deep breath, attempting to clear his head, and looked at her, puzzled. 'She-'

'I understand that she was looking for you and that she encountered my husband instead; I fear that we have been somewhat disruptive today and I do apologise. However, there is time now and it seems to be convenient for both of you. You will find her in what I believe is called the Zen garden.' One hand already hovered over the panel beside his door. 'You don't mind if we carry on a little longer in there, do you?'

'I- No-'

'Thank-you. Goodnight.' She had smiled again, closing his own door in his face and he had started walking, unthinking, halfway there before he had even known it. Della could manipulate a situation just as sweetly and as skillfully as Delenn ever could. Congratulations and sympathies, that was how John had phrased it. Sheridan returned the sentiment silently.

He entered the garden, following the paved walkway deeper into the greenery than was usual for their meetings. For a few seconds he thought that she wasn't there, that she had taken the opportunity of Della's absence to slip away-

A flash of red against the dark green: she was leaning over a flowering bush, taking in the scent of the flowers. Above them was the great curved window of the Fresh Aire - the smoked glass allowed light through but kept those both inside and out safe from prying eyes. Light and music spilled out into the night air, heavy with the flowers' perfume. He tried to be quiet, tried not to disturb her as he approached - wanting just those few minutes to watch her. To take her in.

She straightened as he came nearer, turning to greet him, seeming to sense rather than hear him. That ran both ways, he thought; he always knew when she was near. She smiled.

'Hello.'

'Hello.' He felt so stupidly self-conscious. Tongue-tied. The drivel that would come out of his mouth whenever he was- Sheridan almost laughed at himself. 'How was your evening?'

'It was...' She smiled a little, frowned. 'It was enjoyable ... and very ... interesting.'

He let out a breath. 'Yeah, I'll bet.'

The soft light caught her hair, the planes of her face turned up to his. 'Della is... It was strange, to spend time with her. I find her and ... Mr Sheridan ... an unusual couple; the way they speak to one another is so strange. I did not understand them.'

And Delenn would not be the only one, he thought. 'I think that's just their way of having private conversations in public.'

'Yes.' Her eyes were on his face. 'I believe that we all find ways of doing that.'

'Yes, you're probably right.'

At times her eyes were like mirrors - clear and beautiful and giving nothing away; at others... At others, like now, they were warm, measureless. He dropped his gaze, focus landing on the bush and its bright blooms beside them. Big red blooms. Red for passion. For danger, for warning.

'They match your dress.'

'They are very beautiful.'

It was an impulse, something else he began before even realising; Sheridan picked one of the heads, reaching up to slip it into the dark coil of her hair. She inclined her head towards him instinctively, her eyes still on his face.

A bouquet or even just one bloom...

His fingers brushed against the othla'dun of her crest and she caught her breath. The sensation resonated through her; he was unaware of what he had done, of what it meant, she knew that. The lover's caress. His fingers were strong but surprisingly delicate in their touch. His hand dropped to his side.

'Thank-you.' Delenn could feel her cheeks burn and was grateful for the deep, scented shadow in this little corner of the garden. Their garden, she thought fiercely and allowed herself the luxury of not correcting that thought. Not this night, just for this once. The music from above changed tempo - a slow, swaying beat that suited the low lights.

'That is lovely, the music; do you know what it is?'

Sheridan looked up; through the curved glass the rotating couples were visible only indistinctly - blurred silhouettes moving in time to something not entirely dictated by the music. 'It sounds old - very old. Dance music, twenty-first century - maybe older.' He smiled at her. 'I'm no expert.'

She still had held her head back and he studied the curve of her throat, the hollow at its base just visible above the collar of her robes. It fluttered slightly.

'Do you dance?' he asked suddenly.

She hesitated. The slow, formal steps sometimes carried out at Minbari religious ceremonies could not truly be called dancing, not the way a Human would define it. It was certainly never seen in an entertainment or as part of a courtship ritual. 'It is not an art that is practised on Minbar; I have observed it at diplomatic functions but I have never attempted it.'

'Well, this seems like a good time to learn. You never know when it might come in handy,' he added, self-conscious once more, his words seeming to hang in the air. He held out his hand to her. There was another moment's hesitation and then she came to him, her fingers curving around his. Sheridan led her a few steps onto the paving, further into the light. Delenn glanced up at the window, uncertain, at the indistinct couples.

'They can't see out,' he said. 'And they're all too occupied with each other to worry about anyone else.'

A hint of a smile at her lips. 'Yes.'

He placed one hand on her waist and she took a step closer to him, her fingers tightening around his where he still held her. 'Put your other hand on my shoulder. There, we're ready!'

'How will I know what to do?' Her voice was low, catching in her throat; so close now that she could feel his warmth and she remembered how it had felt to be even closer to him than she was now, to feel his arms around her, shielding her, as though he would do anything to keep her from harm.

'There's nothing to it,' he replied, 'you just follow my lead.'

Delenn smiled again. 'Always.' To the end of the universe, she thought; she kept the words back, the gift of her love that she so longed to give. He was not quite ready to accept it. Not yet, but soon. She could see that, clearly, in his eyes, feel it in his arm around her waist.

He moved slowly - simple steps that she followed obediently, staring down at their feet.

'It's traditional to look up when you're doing this,' he said, gentle humour behind his words. Delenn raised her head and found his eyes. He smiled. 'Hello.'

'Hello.' The lines of tension had faded from his face, she thought. 'Have you enjoyed your evening?'

'It was... Well, it was entertaining if nothing else. I don't think I've ever heard two people talk _at_ each other quite so much as Mike and John. I'm starting to think they breathe through their ears to get all the words out.'

Her eyes crinkled. 'They all seem to be very fond of one another.'

'Yeah; it's nice to see, I guess.'

'And you are now friends with Mr. Sheridan?'

Sheridan let out a breath, his eyebrows rising wryly. 'I suppose he's not so bad when you get to know him.'

Her eyes wandered over his face. 'No.'

He had come to recognise her playful tone. 'He's not even all that bad-looking.'

Delenn's lips twitched. 'His looks are not entirely objectionable.'

'Not entirely? I'll remember that.'

She laughed lightly and he was mesmerised - as always. He held her closer, feeling the curves of her body fit against his. And he allowed himself to think that it were as though she belonged there; he had thought it before, in passing. That first time, even though she had been worn down by the rawness of her grief and he had held her, helpless to offer comfort in any other way, there had been that small part of him that had marvelled at the naturalness of her in his arms. Her eyes had drifted closed, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. He felt the softness of her hair against his cheek, breathed in its perfume. They moved in slow, tight circles, lost in each other and the scent of the night.

ooOoo

'You know the way, huh? Excellent sense of direction, huh?'

'Oh, be quiet – I meant to bring us here.'

Mike once told me that there is no sincerity like a woman telling a lie – I figure that he may be onto something there. We'd ended up somewhere light and bright and I could hear rattling cuttlery and music. A sign on the wall said 'Fresh Aire'. I jerked my head at it.

'You know, if you'd just come here to begin with, you could have saved everyone a great deal of heartache.'

'Oh, skip it you big-talker.'

I grinned at her. 'Come on, plaything; let's get a night-cap.'

We strolled in and I took a look around. It was a nice place - small tables designed for cosy dinner-dates, discreet lighting and lots of plant-life of the hanging variety, which I suppose was appropriate in a place named Babylon. We made it a few steps when a little character I took to be the maître d' popped out at us. He looked at me and beamed in that way that's both low-key and overjoyed at the same time - like they've been hanging around pining for you to come in.

'Ah, good-evening, sir. So nice to see you again - it has been a long time.'

'Uh... Yes.'

'You wish for a table?'

'No, no, we're just stopping at the bar.'

He bowed slightly, obviously impressed by my good taste. 'Of course.' His eyes dropped from me to Della and down to Archie and his smiled stuttered. 'Do you wish to check ... that?'

I had my arm around Della's waist and pulled her a little closer. 'Nah, it's okay - she's housebroken.'

Della looked at me reproachfully and we sailed past, steering ourselves in the direction of the bar that took up a quiet corner of the restaurant. 'Not to be indecorous,' Della murmured, 'but how are we paying for this?'

'When we're done, I'll create a diversion and you head for the door. We'll meet up two hours later - I'll be the girl on the corner smoking two cigarettes,' I said out of the corner of my mouth.

'Ah, your Saturday night look,' she said out of the corner of hers.

I laughed. 'We did well at the poker game, plaything.'

'I thought that you weren't supposed to be playing for money - I should have known that that wouldn't last.'

Archie scrambled up onto a stool and put his chin on the bar. Della pulled herself up next to him with that languid grace she gets that late at night - or that early in the morning, depending on which way you look at it. The barkeep bustled over.

'What are you having?' I asked her.

'Rye,' she said. 'With a rye chaser.'

'Better make that two.'

The barkeep gave me one of those efficient 'Certainly, sir's and bustled back off but not before he'd looked at Della and looked puzzled. I sat next to her and rested my elbows on the counter. There was a small dancefloor and a few couples weaving around it to the slow number being put out by the sleepy-looking band. The barkeep arrived back with our drinks; I handed over the piece of plastic that did duty for currency in that place; he did something to it in a machine, handed it back and melted away. It was good rye - smooth and just dry enough.

Della propped her chin on her hand and studied me for a moment. 'How was it? Hanging out with the boys?'

'Oh, same old-same old. Swapping war stories and all the usual nonsense.'

'Do you miss it?' She took a sip of her drink and watched me over the rim of the glass.

'Miss what?'

'The military.'

There are times when I wonder if I've spoken out loud and just not realised - or if Della has some sort of secret mind-reading ability. She looked calm, thoughtful. 'It was a big part of my life for a long time. Scratch that - it _was_ my life for a long time. I miss some of the people.' I tilted my head and looked at her. 'Were you worried about me? Good God, I think you actually care.'

She shook her head. 'I don't care - I'm just used to you, that's all.'

The band had gone quiet for a bit but they struck up again: a slow, sweet tune with a singer crooning out the words. It took a second before I realised I knew it. Della turned her head, listening.

'That's- Oh, John, do you remember?'

I could hardly forget. That first night in Havana. I'd stepped out onto the balcony of our room; you could hear the ocean, thunder rumbling in the foothills and music trickling up from the ballroom below. The air had been heavy with night-blooming jasmine and the same perfume of gardenias that the singer had been going on about. And then there had been Della. She'd appeared in a cloud of sheer blue something, looking like Venus had just dropped in to say hello. We'd danced then, right there, until the music had stopped - until we'd gone inside and found another dance to do.

I slid off the stool and held my hand out to her. 'Come on.'

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes glowed. She followed me across the floor until we reached the other swaying couples and I held her, her breath warm against my neck. I remembered earlier when I'd walked Delenn through the corridors, how she'd fit on my arm well enough but not perfectly. Not like this, not like her. This was perfect.

ooOoo

It was easy to forget everything else, just for those stolen moments. Sheridan barred all other thoughts rigidly, refusing entry to anything that wasn't Delenn, that wasn't now. One did slip through. John and Della. They were an attractive couple - that easy grace and obvious affection. No, not affection, he thought, adoration. They were so wrapped up in one another but they still managed to have so much feeling and sympathy for everyone else. Nine days. They hadn't given themselves much time to think, perhaps that was the secret; if he didn't think, if he simply acted as he wanted to-

It was not that easy, not for them.

Delenn raised her head from his shoulder and looked into his face. 'John? You are tense.' It was not a question.

He smiled lightly. 'I'm fine.'

She kept looking at him. 'You are worried about your guests?'

How did she do it? he wondered, not for the first time. How could she have known him for so short a time and yet know him so well?

'Draal will do all that he can to find a way to return them home. They will be restored to their proper place.'

'I'm sure he will. It isn't that; I-' Sheridan released a breath. 'It's sort of like seeing an old vid come to life except that we seem to be playing the starring roles - or a version of ourselves, anyway. It's ... confusing. It's just that when I look at them, it's like seeing us, a reflection of us... It's not easy to explain.'

Words she had read a long time ago came back to her. 'We see through a glass darkly, and the truth we now see in fragments we will see then face to face. Everything has its time. They are at a different place in their journey; that is all. We have our own path to follow.'

'I can wait. As long as it takes. As long as you need.' They were still, standing close and still holding on. Delenn moved her hand from his shoulder, her fingers gently touching his face, reminding herself of the feel of his skin.

'I also. And while we wait, we have these moments. They are precious, and we should treasure them, for they will never come again.'

He sucked in a breath, echoes of the past – or was it the future? – strong. He held her now as he would hold her then. He _would_ hold her then, and for all the years in between. Was now the time? Was this the moment when he would tell her and commit them both? Her fingers pressed against his lips.

'The music is starting again. Shall we continue our dance?'

He held her tightly, no longer guiding her steps but simply moving with her. It was fitting, he thought: their relationship was like a dance, a set pattern of steps through which they moved at the pace set by the music of their lives. As long as it ended as it had begun, with her in his arms, he was content to follow the melody, moment to moment.

ooOoo

Della sighed softly, a little noise in the back of her throat; she moved her head, her lips brushing against the side of my neck, just above my collar. 'We're actually dancing through the stars, do you realise that?' Her voice was husky.

'I know. That's one view you'd never get tired of.'

She laughed, still soft. 'You'd never get tired of, you mean. I can just imagine the look on your face when you first saw it. I'll bet that was the single finest moment of your life.'

I held her to me, felt her strength and her tenderness. 'I'd never been so scared in my whole life.' She looked up at me, puzzled. I knew every line of her face by heart but I studied her then, like I was trying to memorise her all over again. 'You weren't there. I had no idea where you were, how I could find you. I looked out and the whole damn universe was standing between us and all I could think about was that I would do anything to get across it, to get back to you.'

She swallowed, hard and she was so close to me I could feel her breath catching. I felt her words more than I heard them, her voice so low in my ear. And I held her for a moment more, pressed my lips against her forehead. I kept my arm around her while we left the dancefloor. I didn't let go of her while we collected her purse and Archie, and not for a long time after that.

ooOoo

Zack Allen would be the first to admit that when it came to Minbari physiology his knowledge was limited. He knew a Minbari when he saw one, he knew the basics and that was about as far as it went. When it came to a Minbari who was no longer wholly Minbari, he was a blank. Maybe her bonecrest, what was left of it, wasn't actually attached anymore. Maybe she could take it off and fit it on each morning. Maybe that's what explained why Ambassador Delenn had looked different each time he'd seen her that day.

But it did not explain how she managed to be in two places at the same time. Nor the captain, for that matter.

And that had very definitely been Captain John J. Sheridan in the Fresh Aire and unless he'd found himself a Human woman who was a ringer for the Minbari ambassador, that had definitely been Delenn he'd had his arm around.

Just like it was definitely Sheridan in the garden, dancing with someone who was unmistakeably Ambassador Delenn.

Zack had watched them for a few seconds: they had been utterly oblivious and he had felt more than a little uncomfortable. He liked the captain and he liked Delenn - he did not like the thought of disturbing what was obviously a private moment. Very private. He liked even less the idea that they might think he was spying on them. Zack turned away, trying to tiptoe across the grass and heading gratefully for the arched doorway that led back to the corridors.

Join EarthForce, Live the Adventure. That's how it had been sold to him. There was certainly plenty of adventure; if anything, some days he could do with a little less adventure. Then there was also living the strange, the weird and the crazy. That may not have made such a good slogan, though. Zack passed a hand over his face and thought about his quarters, a shower and a nice cold beer. A figure passed him and he glanced up automatically, barely registering the face before it had passed his line of sight.

'Oh, hey, Chief.'

'Zack.'

'Hey, Zack.'

He stopped in the corridor, turned and looked down it at the two people heading for the corner. Two of them. He scrunched up his eyes for a second and looked again. There were still two of them. One of them was even wearing Garibaldi's hat.

Maybe it was something in the water. Or in the food. Zack made his feet start moving, taking him towards his quarters. Yeah, the food. Perhaps the catering staff had started putting anti-depressants in the food and one of the little-known side-effects was that it made sleep-deprived sergeants have hallucinations.

Zack scrubbed at his face again. Maybe, just to be on the safe side, that beer wasn't such a good idea after all.

Around the corner, Michael and his new friend strolled along companionably.

'He's a good kid,' Mike said.

'Who?'

He jerked his head backwards. 'Zack.'

'Oh, yeah – he's okay.'

Mike, one hand in his pocket, held out the other and turned it over palm up. 'You still haven't told me what the second favourite thing is.'

'Oh, yeah.' Michael grinned at him. 'How do you feel about _Duck Dodgers_?'

Mike blinked. 'Say what now?'

Michael's face fell. '_Duck Dodgers_. Jeez, I would have thought that you of all people... Look, are you seriously telling me you don't know _Duck Dodgers_?'

'Uh... I know Buck Rogers.'

Michael shook his head. 'No, no, no. Look, okay, you've got Daffy Duck, okay? And-'

'Hold it.' Mike looked at him intently. 'Are you offering me something with Daffy Duck?'

'You're damn right I am.'

Mike grinned broadly. 'Why the hell didn't you say so? Lead on, brother, lead on.'

ooOoo

Dancing should certainly be one of Della's rituals, Delenn thought drowsily. Perhaps it would be counted as such already – she would ask Della when she saw her. But she didn't want to think about the next day or anything else. She could not, even if she had wanted to. Her thought processes, usually so clear, felt dulled, hazy.

It was a wonderful sensation.

There was a strange, smoky scent clinging to his clothes but she barely noticed it; rather, she caught the scent that lay behind it, the scent that seemed to be _him_ alone. Her hand had moved from its resting place on his shoulder, curving further around until it lay at the back of his neck. She twined through her fingers the hair that just curled over his collar; it was like her own and yet unlike, its texture a rough satin. Another wonderful sensation – and strangely addictive.

It could have been many cycles that they had been like this, she thought: locked together, unaware of anything and everything else.

'The music has stopped,' she said softly, eventually.

'Has it?' His voice was barely above a murmur, a caress against her ear. And he still held her close, following the steps they had created for themselves.

Delenn smiled, kept her head against his shoulder. The universe had its own song, her father had told her that. It had sung itself into existence and its music resonated through everything, connecting everything that was and had ever been; if you could learn how to listen correctly, you too could hear the melody it sang to itself. There would always be music, even when they could not hear it.

The lights had dimmed further; in their little corner of the garden the shadows had deepened and there were few other visitors by this time. Of those who did pass, none paid them any attention. No-one noticed them. They were just two people, together yet apart, dancing in the dark.

_TBC_


	15. Love is the Strangest Game

**ooOoo**

**Love is the Strangest Game**

**ooOoo**

I wouldn't say that I'm exactly what is known as a morning person but as I hadn't actually been asleep yet, the whole dealing with the dawn problem wasn't much of an issue. Not that they had dawn in that cockamamie set-up. If you want cheerful in the morning, look no further than a certain John J. Sheridan. He's cheerful pretty much most of the time and the mornings are no exception - he whistles and everything. I think there's something very wrong with that man.

And before you ask, I have no idea about Della. She's my partner's wife and there's a strict hands-off policy in operation in cases like that. There's also the fact that she's a Ramir and I'm a peasant. There's also the fact that if I made a pass at her - which I wouldn't: see statements one and two previous - she just might plug me with that little pearl-handled bean-shooter that John gave her that I think did duty as a combined engagement and wedding present.

Anyhow, I had finally stumbled out of Michael's digs and made a mental note to keep an eye out for _Duck Dodgers_. It was a show with class, a modern masterpiece. If there was any justice in the world, Daffy Duck would be worshipped as a god; I think Michael already does that - the man has taste.

John prefers Bugs Bunny but then he would.

I ambled down the corridor and tried to get my bearings. I stopped for a minute, stretched, scratched my right side just below the ribs and had me a good yawn. It was quiet at that hour of the morning, all the uniformed somebodies and aliens still curled up in their beds. I'm not saying the same beds but I figure that plenty of that went on and whatever floats your boat is pretty much jake with me as long as everybody's willing. I put my hands in my pockets, turned a corner and almost walked into a vision of loveliness and feminine temptation.

Okay, so her eyes were a little puffy and her hair looked like it had some ideas of its own and none of them good; but she still looked good enough to make a good dog break his leash. I grinned at her.

'Good-morning.'

Susan blinked at me and her hand moved to the front of the pale-blue zip-up something she was wearing like she was trying to hold it closer around herself; it's not like you could see anything of her under it anyhow so I don't know why she was bothering but it seems to be what dolls do when a guy startles 'em - I guess they're just built that way.

'Oh. Hello.' Her voice was a little hoarse but I liked it like that; she squinted at me. 'You're up early.'

'I am. Actually, I'm going to bed early - y'know, like that French guy? The one with the biscuits who kept bawling over his grandma and some chippie.'

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown and then relaxed some. 'You mean Marcel Proust?'

'That's the bird - and is he a pill.'

She laughed - one of those breathy things that had come to mean so much to me the day before.

'And what's a nice girl like you doing running around at this time of the morning?'

'I was picking up a paper.' She had one under her arm and if I hadn't been so busy gawking at the rest of her I would have noticed but I was low on shut-eye and when I get like that I get distracted easy and Susan Ivanova was enough to distract anyone.

'I've got some scruffy kid who delivers one to my doormat each morning. And some mornings he actually manages to deliver it,' I told her. 'Unless, of course, I've got some tight-wad of a neighbour who keeps taking mine, which wouldn't surprise me.'

She smiled, kind of sleepy, with one corner of her mouth going up. 'Well, I am heading back to my quarters, so I'll let you get to bed. You could probably do with it.'

She took a step back, started to turn and I took a step forward. 'You know, it occurs to me that your quarters and my bed lie in the same geographic direction and as we're both headed in that direction at the moment it only makes sense that we go there together. I mean, otherwise I'd have to walk behind you and it might make you jumpy; plus folks might think that I'm following you and try to jump me to protect your honour and then you'd have to come rescue me and protect _my_ honour-'

'Okay!' Susan held up one hand. 'Okay, fine. Just- just please stop talking.'

I buttoned my yap and smiled at her. We sauntered along and I was starting to think that I could get used to this; she didn't really seem to be the domestic type but that was okay because neither was I. We didn't pass anyone else so my whole accidental hero passer-by theory didn't really hold but you can never be too careful. After a few moments of happy moseying we arrived at a door that Susan stopped at and nodded towards and then she told me, 'This is me. Thanks for the escort.'

'No problem.' I decided to make my pitch. 'Hey, you know what? You could do with a pick-me-up.' Okay, so it isn't really polite to talk about a lady's headache, even when she obviously has one. I mean that special sort of grown-up headache. But this wasn't the most normal situation and I didn't figure that Susan would mind too much - what with her being slightly bleary around the peepers and also what with her being a soldier and all.

I don't why that last part sort of did it for me, but it just did.

'I've got this great recipe that I got off this pal of mine,' I said. Nine days out of ten I wouldn't call Mark Cole a pal, especially around John - ever since what happened in Havana, any mention of Mark makes him go all twitchy. But he does do a great line in drinks that make life worth living again the morning after the night before. 'No fooling - it'll set you up for the rest of the day. In fact, come to think of it, I'll trade you: I'll get you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed again and you can tell me how come you and the girl-gang got all dolled up and hit Downbelow last night when you wouldn't even let an honest working stiff like me set foot in the place in the middle of the day. It hurts, Susan, it pierces me to the core. Ever since I heard about that I've been a seething mass of rage and pain.'

Her door had swung open and she leant against the frame, gazing at me wanly; she ran a hand through her hair. 'If I let you come in will you shut up?'

'Precious, I never make a promise that I know I can't keep but I can promise you that I'll try.'

She did her breathy laugh routine again. 'That'll have to do. Come on in.'

It was a swell place - not too full of feminine things but it was obviously the place where a female had had a say in what went into it and where it went when it got there.

'Not bad,' I said.

'Gee, thanks,' she said. She pulled herself up onto a stool and rested both elbows on the counter; her chin got propped in the cup of her hands. I got myself stuck into her cupboards and found myself like Old Mother Hubbard - when I got there, the cupboard was bare. I started to wonder if this lot ever purchased anything edible. But I was undeterred - I like to think that when it comes to it I can think on my feet and as I'd promised her something to stand her the right way up again, the least I could do was deliver.

'So, I'm waiting,' I said.

'What for?'

'For your explanation, precious, and abject grovelling. How come I got shortchanged on the grand tour yesterday, huh?'

She groaned, her eyes flickering closed. 'Are you still talking about Downbelow?'

'Got it in one. What gives, huh? And me on my best behaviour and all?'

One corner of her mouth turned up. 'Fine. Let's put it this way: I know what Garibaldi's like - our Garibaldi - and I know what it's like when he goes into Downbelow. Five minutes and then all hell breaks loose; and I really wasn't in the mood for all of that with you.'

I leant both hands on the counter and looked at her sadly. 'You think that I find trouble wherever I go, huh?'

'The thought had occurred to me.'

I sucked in a breath. 'Yeah, okay, I have to give you that.'

She laughed again and looked down to read the headlines in her paper. She also glanced up at me every now and then, just flicking her eyes in my direction; she thought I didn't notice so I didn't let on that I did - a guy has to keep some mystery for a girl.

I had raided just about everything in her kitchenette that wasn't nailed down and put it into a glass. It was probably just as well that she didn't have all that much because Mark's patented recipe takes as its base something particularly nasty involving eggs and then goes downhill. I found a bottle of vodka so started with that and poured about three fingers; there was a lime of the hard, shrivelled variety in the salad drawer of her refrigerator that looked like it had been there when I was still in short pants - I cut it in half and squeezed out the three drops of juice still in it as I figured she could do with the vitamins. Then came the pepper, to give her system something to kick against. And then there was the secret ingredient: I dumped in a sachet of Alka Seltzer; I always carry them with me as I've found that one slipped into a slug out of the office bottle sets you up on one of those mornings after the night before. I stirred all up until it was nice and fizzy and slid it along the counter to her.

Susan looked at it with what I guess you could call apprehension. 'What is it?'

I had once been given a cure that went by the cheery name of the Suffering Bastard and the name was so good I never forgot it.

'It's called a Suf- A Terrible Ivan.'

Rubbing it in at that point probably wouldn't have been such a great idea. Even so, one eyebrow went up.

'A Terrible Ivan?'

'Yeah.' I grinned. 'One hell of a coincidence, huh?'

Her lips pursed. 'Hmm.'

'Hey, look, angel, don't think, just drink it.'

Susan picked up the glass carefully, keeping her eyes on it like she didn't trust it. Her baby-blues flicked up to me again and then she took a breath and took a sip. She choked slightly; I put my hand under the bottom of the glass and tilted it back.

'All in one, drink it down.'

She gulped and then gurgled when it was all down her; she gasped and her eyes watered and she reminded me of Della after she'd been introduced to the brivari.

'Oh... My God.'

It occurred to me that I might have accidentally killed her, which would make me her widower-to-be without having had any of the benefits of being her husband-to-be. Nuts.

'Uh... You okay?'

She had moved onto coughing. 'Yeah...' Then she sneezed. 'Yeah, I'm okay. Bastard.'

I grinned. 'Precious, you say the sweetest things. And you're welcome, by the way.'

Susan unearthed a tissue from somewhere and moped her face with it. Her hair had got a little crazier and her nose was pink. She wiped her eyes and scowled at me; when she did that it made me want to lick my whiskers, rub myself against her legs and purr. 'How are you feeling?'

'I-' She stopped and got this look of awe. 'I feel better.'

In her eyes I had obviously just become the oracle, the master of the universe, the man of her dreams, the lord of her desires.

'See? Trust your Uncle Mike.'

She folded her arms. 'You don't really strike me as being the avuncular type.'

'Ah, well, there you go - just think of all the fun you're going to have getting to find out all this stuff about me. But I'll give you some of the key points, just to save time. I was born in the state penitentiary in Wisconsin, the youngest child in a family of forty-six. Mike isn't actually my name: I gave it to myself because my folks had run out of ideas by then and just called the last twelve of us by numbers. This was back in eighteen-thirty-eight, and-'

Susan buried her face in her hands and I heard a muffled groan. 'You don't give up, do you?' She raised her head enough that I could see her eyes over the tops of her fingers.

I leant against her counter in a rakish manner and laid on her a charming smile that I'd borrowed from John - he has plenty in stock so he wouldn't miss one. 'It shows you how persistent and dependable I am.'

'How, exactly, does this show you're dependable?'

''Cos if I'm persistent you know that I'm always going to show up and if I'm showing up, its dependable, see?'

Sometimes I even amaze myself with my logic.

Her lips parted, her mouth opened and then she just shook her head. Susan pushed herself off the stool and padded around to my side of the counter, all nice and cosy-like. 'I'm going to make some coffee,' she said, 'would you like some?'

I sighed. 'Susan Ivanova, you are the answer to a man's prayers.'

She laughed again. She was starting to do that quite a bit and I liked that. I liked that I was making her laugh. I got sent to the other side of the counter to get out from under her feet - no matter who the doll is they always have that same complaint sooner or later - and it was a pretty good view from that side, especially when she had to lean across things and bend down to other things. I like to think that she was giving the show a bit of extra oomph for my benefit - a guy can dream after all.

And the funny thing was that she made coffee just the way our Susan makes it - bitter and strong, just the way I like it. Our girl had made it that way the very first day, without her even having to ask. She was a sweet slip of a kid and I wondered what was happening to her and if she was okay and thought she must be getting pretty lonely right about now, sitting in our office all by herself, waiting for us to show up.

I drank my coffee and tried not to think about it; there was nothing I could do for her. And besides, Mark's world had probably lit up with the news (he has a sixth sense about these things) and he'd be swooping in being all British and comforting to take care of her.

'So,' I asked conversationally, 'what have you got planned for me today?'

I was sitting on one of her stools and she was sitting on the other; we faced each other and she looked soft and sleepy and warm. I figured that mornings could become my favourite time of the day with this sort of thing going on. She blew on her coffee, her lips pursing.

'I don't have anything planned. My shift starts in half-an-hour and all I plan on doing is making sure that everything that's supposed to run smoothly around here does just that.'

'Well, if anyone can, you can,' I said.

I swear to God that her cheeks actually flushed then. She looked at me, hard, like she was trying to get inside my head. I would have told her not to bother, nothing much doing in there, but I've never been a guy to stand in the way of a lady doing what she wants to do.

'I don't understand you,' she said.

I shrugged. 'I'm not so tough to figure.'

'One minute you talk ... rubbish; and the next you say something like that, you compliment me, and you sound like you mean it. Why are you set on being nice to me? Let's face it, I've barely given you the time of day most of the time since you got here.'

'I'm contrary; I like a challenge. I could try insulting you, if you prefer.'

'I think I'll pass, thanks anyway.' She drank more of her coffee and held the mug between both her hands.

'I just like you, that's all,' I said. 'That's not so surprising, is it? You're a good-looking girl and I'm a mainly in one-piece guy. What's so screwy about two people meeting and liking each other and doing something about it? Birds do it, bees do it, educated fleas do it-'

She wasn't laughing then. She looked caught by something and she stared at me. 'We barely know each other.'

And then I wasn't laughing, either. Suddenly it wasn't really funny; suddenly it was serious and I couldn't remember the last time that something had been this important to me.

'Of course we know each other. We're just the same: it's some god-awful time in the morning and we're both far from home.'

She still looked at me and her hands gripped the coffee-mug until her knuckles turned white. I put mine down, took her face between my hands and kissed her. When I stopped she opened her eyes and breathed hard. Her tongue flicked out, running across her bottom lip. I kissed her again and one of her hands curled around the lapel of my jacket. She tasted strong and bitter.

It could have gone like that for some time. It was magic, it was intimate, there were even heavenly voices in the background. Okay, one heavenly voice. And after a while it started filtering through and it wasn't all that heavenly; it was female and cooing but it was also rattling off facts and figures and was damn annoying.

I raised my head and blinked. 'What the-?'

Susan had her forehead against my shoulder and I stroked her hair. 'It's my itinerary.' She looked up at me. 'I have to go to work soon.'

'Oh yeah, that.' I had a brainwave. 'You know, all this just reminded me of that other really great pick-me-up - the best in the world. We could probably just about fit it in before you have to run off to the office, dear.'

'What-' Her cheeks flushed when she realised what I meant and her baby-blues looked like they were about to pop right out of her head. 'You can't mean- That-'

I laughed. 'Maybe some other time, huh? Oh, okay - but don't say I didn't offer. Look, all fooling aside but, uh, I hear you folks have some swanky place around here called the Fresh Aire. Your captain tried to sell Della on it but no dice, but I've got better taste than she has. So. What do you say? You and me, tonight?'

'I...' She looked down and started picking at some invisible crumbs on her counter; I kept my arms around her waist and waited until she looked up at me again. 'All right. That might be ... nice.'

I almost threw my head back and howled but I played it cool and unconcerned - you don't want dolls knowing that they've just made your day before you've even had breakfast.

'Then it's a date. I, uh, I better let you, you know, get ready for work and, uh, stuff.'

'Yeah, that-that would be a good idea.' She didn't try too hard to get away from me.

'I'll be going now.'

'Okay.'

I reminded myself what she tasted like one more time and she put her hands at the back of my head while I did it. When we were done I pretty much needed to hold my head on with my own hands - it was that sort of kiss. When I was outside her place I stood and preened for a moment and wondered if I'd won enough at the game to pay for a full-page spread in the paper to tell the whole place that I had a date with Susan Ivanova. I tilted my hat over my eyes, shoved my hands in my pockets and had me a cheery whistle as I sauntered along. I hadn't got all that far when I heard someone saying my name; I looked up and found a John Sheridan coming towards me from a side-corridor. I put my finely-honed detecting skills to work and figured this one was my partner - he was attached to the mutt, who yapped when he saw me and drooled on my shoe.

'I knew you were about,' John said. 'I heard someone murdering _Pagliacci_ two corridors back so figured you were on the loose.'

'Good-morning to you, too. Don't tell me you've been wandering around all night.'

He fell in beside me and we moseyed along, just like always.

'Nah, I took Archie for his walk. Della's still asleep.'

The big dope. I could imagine him creeping out, leaving his lady-love to her sweet slumbers, like Prince Charming too dizzy to disturb Sleeping Beauty. If I ever get that screwy over a dame, I hope someone puts me out of my misery. Then I remembered the lovely Susan and figured it best to keep my mouth shut. John must have been expecting something from me and when nothing was doing he frowned at me and then sneered.

'So, why are you in such a good mood this morning?'

'Me?' I looked at him. 'I'm always in a good mood, especially in the mornings. Love 'em. When the sun kisses the sky with the hue of a rosy dawn-'

John groaned and muttered something again. I grinned.

'Well, I was in a good mood until I ran into you and Toto down there.'

The hound sneezed indignantly: even though he didn't even reach my knees he still managed to give the impression that he was looking down his nose at me. John looked disgusted - I couldn't tell if it was with me or the mutt. 'Toto?'

'Yeah. Toto's a dog, see. And he belongs to this little-'

'I know who Toto is.' He said it louder than was really necessary at that time in the morning.

The three of us sauntered along - okay, one of us trotted - and after a while I said, 'So, you figure yet what you're going to do if we don't get off this tin can anytime soon?'

He sighed and I have to say he didn't look too moody about it. 'I don't know; we'll think of something.' He turned his head and laid one of his smiles on me - the kind that inspires confidence. One of these days he's going to try that on me and it won't work; but don't hold your breath - try as I might I can't see that day coming anytime soon. 'Know anyone who needs to hire a detective?'

When we first set up shop together I had wondered why he was doing it - and if I ever get a straight answer out of him on that one, I'll let you know; when he married Della I had expected the next words I'd hear out of him to be 'Thanks, it's been nice, but so long.' But he showed up at the office on the Monday after they got back from Vegas and barring a few days here and there he's been showing up ever since. So it looks like I'm sort of stuck with him.

'In this place? We'll be having to tell 'em to take a number and form an orderly queue; we'll clean up, brother.' I brightened at an even better idea. 'Or maybe Della can cash in on the Ramir stocks that have been hanging around ever since she went AWOL. What's it been - three hundred years? You'll probably find out that you've earned so much interest that technically you run the galaxy or something.'

He shuddered. 'They can keep it. A stall to do business and a room to call home, that's all we need.'

'Aw, you old romantic you. Okay, I'll move into that little room of yours, buddy, but how are we going to break it to Della that she's been given the boot in my favour?'

'Skip it, will you?' His eyes crinkled just to show that he was laughing at me.

We stopped outside a pair of doors and John looked me over like he had just noticed me. 'You look like hell.' He tells me that most every morning: it's how I know he still cares. 'Go get some sleep, will you?'

I looked at him in mock awe and amazement. 'You know, some times I think you can read minds.'

He shook his head and jabbed the dingus on the wall next to his new door.

'I'll catch you later.'

John nodded and vanished and I'll swear that I heard the words, 'Not if I see you first,' floating back at me.

I let myself into my digs and it was the first time that I'd actually seen them. They weren't bad. I even had a kitchenette all of my very own and a sitting room bigger than my place back home and one of those things set into the wall that everybody went nuts for around hear. Mine wasn't talking at me but I didn't let that make me feel unloved and neglected; I was glad that the cooing female was letting me alone. I eased myself into my bedroom and after playing around with some of the things in the place I was now calling home, I eased myself into bed and fell asleep thinking about a girl with tawny hair and coffee on her lips.

ooOoo

Michael Garibaldi set down his breakfast tray and stared at it blearily. It was just tiredness; he was getting too old for nights like that, he told himself. That was a depressing thought so he didn't let himself think it for very long. His throat was scratchy from the cigarette smoke but apart from that his only problem was lack of sleep. It was still something he could appreciate, though - facing up to the morning after with a clear head and being able to remember precisely what had happened from first to last the night before. It was a nice feeling. The canteen had the muted murmur of sluggish conversation while all the other officers who had the misfortune of taking the early shift forced themselves into wakefulness. A figure hovered into view, gripping its tray hard at the edges. He looked up.

'Hey, Chief.'

'Oh. Hey, Zack.'

'Okay if I join you?'

Michael looked at him for a second and then nodded. 'Sure; last time I checked it was still a free station - just about.'

Zack set down his tray and took the chair opposite; he ran a hand through his hair, cleared his throat and looked hard at Michael after every mouthful. Michael threw down his napkin and put both elbows on the table.

'Okay. What gives, huh?'

Zack was wide-eyed. 'What do you mean?'

Michael rolled his eyes. 'What do I mean? You sitting giving me the evil eye is what I mean. What's it all for, huh?'

The younger man drove his spoon into his bowl. 'I, uh... I...'

'Oh, for God's sake. Zack! Just spill, will ya!' Mike was rubbing off on him, he thought vaguely.

Zack looked up, staring intently at his superior's face. 'Okay. Okay. It's just... I saw you last night - and there were two of you. I mean, there was you and there was a guy who looked exactly like you; and it just... I mean, yesterday was a pretty weird day. Even for here, it was weird. There was that whole thing with Ambassador Delenn and then with you... I just don't get it. Who was that guy?'

Michael held a breath for a moment, let it out slowly. 'That guy... Okay, here's the thing. That guy's name is Michael Garibaldi and he's paying us a little visit from nineteen-forty-nine.'

Zack laid down his spoon and looked at Michael; he breathed heavily down his nose. 'Okay. Y'know, if you didn't want to tell me it's fine, I get it. All you had to do was say.'

'I'm not _not_ telling you; I just _did_ tell you.'

Zack sighed and looked accusing. And hurt. Michael blew out a breath, leaned both forearms on the table and looked around; he kept his voice low. 'Look, I'm not holding out on you; this is on the level.'

So what if people get confused? So what if questions are asked? His own words had returned with a vengeance, he thought, and trying either to evade or answer those questions wasn't as simple as he had thought. He tried to keep the facts to a bare minimum: Susan's trip planetside; the trouble with the Machine; their unexpected guests...

Zack kept his arms folded and leant back in his chair throughout.

'Huh.'

Michael stared at him. ' "Huh"? That's it? That's all you can say? "Huh"?'

Zack shrugged. 'Yeah, well... Okay, it sounds crazy but c'mon, Chief, a lot of stuff 'round here is pretty crazy, y'know?'

'Don't I ever.'

The younger man nodded thoughtfully. 'So, this lady, Della... She must be who I saw with Ivanova yesterday; she's got a dog?'

'She certainly does.'

'Huh. And there's another Garibaldi - and two captains? That's, uh... Don't get me wrong, the captain's great ... but that's a pretty scary thought.'

As Zack's superior officer, Michael told himself, it was his job to make sure that Zack kept those sorts of thoughts to himself.

'I hear that,' he said.

Zack chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, then: 'Hey, so if they're all running around New York together back in the Forties, do they know me? I mean, do they know someone who's me to them?' He paused. 'Is that what I mean?'

Michael shook his head. 'I have no idea. But if it helps any, there's a Lieutenant Zack Allen of the New York City Police Department, Homicide Bureau.'

'Lieutenant?' Zack thought about that and then grinned. 'I like the sound of that. Lieutenant Allen. I could get used to it.'

'Yeah, well, let's wait until we can get through breakfast without you spilling stuff on yourself first, shall we?'

'Huh?' Zack glanced at the front of his uniform. 'Oh...'

Michael watched him scrub at the fresh stain and couldn't help a smile. Zack was one of the good guys and he had come a long way in a short time; but then there were still times like this...

'Y'know, we should have some dogs on the station,' Zack said suddenly. 'I like dogs.'

Michael rolled his eyes. 'Oh, well, if you like 'em, I'll get right on it. I'm sure the captain will make it his top priority.'

The sarcasm was either lost on Zack or simply ignored; he was smiling slightly. 'She's really pretty. Not that Ambassador Delenn isn't; but... She is _really_ pretty. Y'know?'

'Della Sheridan,' Michael said clearly, weighing every syllable. 'She's married.'

Zack sighed. 'Aren't they all?'

ooOoo

I woke and felt strangely cold - a sensation to which I am not accustomed. Most mornings I am enveloped by luxurious warmth and either holding onto or - more frequently - held by a fairly substantial mass of male person.

On that morning I was alone, the sheets were thin and cold and I had the impression of being enclosed in a large grey box. It was claustrophobic, like being buried alive. I was, perhaps, still asleep and only under the illusion that I was awake. I closed my eyes, opened them again, wide, and found that nothing of my situation had changed.

The walls were still there and still unbroken by any window; I had the disconcerting sensation of time standing still and not in a good way. No natural light - no sun, no moon. No seasons. No clear, fresh air. The vista of stars that lay beyond the confines of the station (and the even smaller confines of our room) was undeniably impressive - but I found it... Cold. That great expanse of airless darkness; and all that lay between us and it were glass and steel (or whatever they were) - and I could not help but feel that they were inadequate to the task.

As I had to resign myself to accepting the reality of where we were once more, I also became aware of the steady tipple of soft voices coming from the next room; through the frosted sliding-doors I could see the flicker of light. I adopted one of the bed sheets as a wrap - it was voluminous and, I fear, far less flattering than I would have liked but sometimes you have to work with what is available to you. My clothes, I noticed, had been lain over the back of a chair in a reasonably tidy manner, which was an improvement on where they had been left the night before. I eased back one of the doors and stood in the opening, taking in the scene.

The flickering emanated from the screen set into the wall - it was about the size and shape of a large television screen and was broadcasting in dazzling colour; it appeared to be a news programme and it held the rapt attention of my husband.

He is a handsome man. He seems to be unaware of just how handsome he is - which only serves to make him more attractive. And he is more attractive still at moments like that - when he is unaware of being watched and he looks a little undone. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his top few buttons unfastened; his hair had been smoothed down and fell across his forehead, his cheeks were slightly darkened where he hadn't shaved.

I stood and looked at him and everything about him took the breath from me.

Archie was curled up at his feet, apparently fast asleep. 'Well, aren't you a pretty pair?' I said. 'Like an off-duty Crusader and his faithful companion.'

John turned his head, looked at me and a lazy smile spread across his face. 'Speaking of pretty...'

'Flatterer.' I crossed the room and arranged myself beside him, the sheet billowing; he put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his chest. I felt his lips press against the top of my head.

'Sleep well, plaything?'

'Very, thank-you. Eventually.' I felt him smile and his arm tightened around me; we had both been very good at keeping one another awake the night before. I rested against him and entertained myself by testing the elasticity of one of the red bands of his suspenders - it made an impressive snapping sound when I released it. My reward was a rumble in his chest - a delightfully husky sound that reverberated under my ear.

'Repeat after me,' he said, ' "That is not a toy".'

'That's what you think.' The voice from the screen continued to rise and fall. 'What is that, anyway?'

'The news.' He sounded scathing.

I investigated his buttons and discovered one that was all but asking to be slid back through the biding of its buttonhole; I obliged and admired the contrast of the white cotton against the tan of his skin. Smooth, firm skin. 'You hate the news.'

'I know. Goddamn politicians...' It is a perennial complaint: I found it endearing on John's part and depressing on society's that he should still be able to make it so many years into the future. He subsided into the occasional grumble and derisive snort.

I felt lazy but not sleepy; I also felt a little chilly. And even though my position at that time was most pleasing, the sofa was not the most comfortable specimen of its type that I had ever known. I also thought that our time could be better served in another manner. I yawned ostentatiously but prettily and stretched out a little. The response was not immediate. In fact, it was non-existent. I moved out of his embrace.

'It's a little cool out here, don't you think?'

'Uh-huh.' He scowled at an overly made-up woman on the news report.

I moved up to the arm of the sofa. 'I think I'll go back to bed.'

'Uh-huh.'

I observed him for a moment. 'After that Mike's stopping by to take me back to Downbelow - I'm dancing naked on the bar to earn some pocket money.'

'Uh-huh.'

He didn't move; he barely blinked. I breathed heavily down my nose and started to get up.

'Just make sure that they give the money to you and not to Mike.'

I glared at the side of his head and then threw a cushion at him. One arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back down to him. He was laughing softly.

'Very funny.' I rested my head against his shoulder again and pressed my fingers against my temple.

'Headache, sweetheart?' he asked, with a little more tenderness than he had shown up until then.

'As if you care,' I replied. 'Anyway, it's not so bad. I'll live.'

'You could do with some exercise,' he told me. 'Get the blood pumping, plenty of oxygen.'

The voices had fallen silent; the screen was dark and lifeless.

'I see. I'm not exactly dressed for engaging in physical fitness.' I tilted my head up towards his, looking into his face. His hands had started wandering, investigating the folds of my makeshift wrap - and what lay beneath it.

'Oh, I don't know,' his voice had lowered, as thick and warm as molasses, 'it looks about right to me.'

'Really? Just what sort of exercise did you have in mind?'

I had just enough time to see the flash in his eyes and the way one corner of his mouth turned up. He stood up, taking me with him, carrying me as easily as he would a doll.

'It's probably easier if I show you.'

_TBC_


	16. Time Goes By

**ooOoo**

**Time Goes By**

**ooOoo**

Between the candle and the star, between the darkness and the light. They were the words that had always guided her, had formed the contours of her beliefs and her meditations. In the dimness of her quarters, the still flames from the candles gave the only light. Even that Delenn had stopped seeing - the light she saw now came from within. She breathed deeply, feeling it spread through her, feeling the connection to everything. In these moments of calm, thoughts were unforced and the things that were truly important could come to the surface. Captain Sheridan, John, his face. She had learnt every line by heart. Delenn closed her eyes. And in the silence there was still the faint echo of music, sweet and lilting - a sound that should have seemed strange, foreign to her and all that she was and yet seemed to be part of her.

There were so many questions and so few answers. Perhaps the answers were not really all that important, just acceptance.

Another breath; she released it slowly and became vaguely aware of another source of light, faint, and the sound of soft breathing other than her own. With her eyes still closed she smiled.

'Hello, old friend.'

'Good-morning, Delenn,' Draal replied, his voice filling every corner of her quarters. 'I did not wish to disturb your meditations.'

The precision of his wording amused her: disturb her meditations, no; disturb _her_, yes. Delenn opened her eyes, took a moment to adjust herself to the present, to her own physicality once more.

'Lights, low.'

They rose softly: hazy pools in the centre of the room, the corners still shadowed. Delenn met Draal's eyes and smiled once more. Their gestures mirrored one another's - the hands raised and joined in formal salutation, the inclination of the heads.

He looked even stronger than when she had seen him last, she thought; he radiated vibrancy and his eyes were still deep with wisdom and humour. There was every possibility that he would still be there, in the Machine, long after they had all gone.

'It is good to see you,' Delenn said. She drew comfort from knowing that he was there, so close - but she still missed him. So close, yet still so far away.

'It is good to be seen,' Draal replied; there was a pause, then, 'It is good to see you. You look very well ... a little tired, perhaps, but very well. Your hours of rest were short last night?'

Delenn did not miss the gleam of amusement that accompanied his words; the Machine allowed him far more knowledge of all that occurred on board the station than she liked to think. 'Yesterday was, as the Humans say, a long day.'

'Hmph.' Draal watched her for a moment. Of all the young Minbari to whom he had played mentor, Delenn had always been the most exceptional; the one for whom he had cared the most - although, having a favourite was not something to which he would admit. He had enjoyed watching her over the many cycles of their friendship; he had never had any children of his own but he loved her as well as he would any daughter. The change she had undergone suited her, he thought: she seemed more true to herself, more Minbari, than she had before. She had made her home among the Humans; and the man, Sheridan, was a worthy mate.

Their prolonged courtship was, he found, frustrating.

So unlike their counterparts, in that respect...

Draal cleared his throat and looked down at her; Delenn had moved from her position, kneeling by the table, to the sofa. She smoothed the fabric of her robes over her knees and waited for him patiently.

'I have been working with the Machine ever since the arrival of the ... unexpected guests. I was most surprised to discover that there was more than one.'

Delenn smiled slightly. 'It was a great surprise to all of us.'

'Yes...' His head tilted back. 'What do you think of them?'

She was silent, still for a moment. 'At first I found them ... unnerving. They were difficult to understand - and for all the similarities, the differences made them seem very strange to me. And yet... And yet now it seems almost as though they belong here.'

'But they do not belong here.' His voice was firm and gentle; Delenn looked up at him. 'Theirs is a strange world - a fascinating one, but strange. I have seen it, only from afar.'

'You have found the way to return them home.'

Draal watched her, saw the sudden, steadying, intake of breath before she had spoken. 'Yes. But I will need the aid of Commander Ivanova to attain that end.'

'I see.' It was selfishness, Delenn thought, this sudden feeling of loss.

Draal moved around her quarters noiselessly. 'It would seem,' he said after some time, 'that the universe takes a great interest in you and Captain Sheridan and many of the inhabitants of this place.'

'Yes.'

The candle flames still burned, seemingly dimmer now against the light from overhead; Delenn watched one, finding again the steadiness at its heart. Her eyes moved from it to the face of her friend: he was watching her - thoughtful, sympathetic.

'You have seen their home? The place from where they came?'

'I have seen it; it was most fascinating. The same collection of beings in slightly different forms all gathered together. I could see only from a great distance - Commander Ivanova can bring us closer - but I did see...' His head tilted again. 'I saw even another version of myself - Frederick Drahl. He is - or, I should say, was - clearly a being of great intelligence and integrity.'

'Clearly.' Delenn smiled slightly.

'Hmph.'

Della had spoken of the man she knew as Drahl with great affection, Delenn recalled; he was her family. It had been only the day before, that sudden misunderstanding and conflict between herself and the Human woman, and yet it seemed so long ago. The friendship, the acceptance ... those had followed just as quickly and had gone far deeper. She took a breath, held it, and released it slowly.

'I wonder what it is that the universe wished to learn through this action,' she said softly.

'Perhaps it was not to learn - perhaps it was to teach.'

Delenn lifted her head, her brow wrinkling. Draal watched her steadily, his arms folded across his chest.

'I do not understand.'

'Do you not? He is a good man.'

'Who?'

He looked at her; her cheeks coloured. Draal was silent for a moment; he desired happiness for her but involving oneself in the personal affairs of others was not the Minbari way - not even with someone so deeply cared for.

'Perhaps the universe wished to try a new pattern - or to offer a different perspective. That is not to say,' he added, 'that the lesson is only meant for those of you who are here and now - it may also apply to those from the past.'

'Yes, perhaps,' Delenn replied uncertainly, unable to imagine what it was that their exotic guests could learn from them. She straightened, her hands joined more loosely than before. 'When will you...'

His voice was gentle. 'I believe that the sooner the better, as the Humans say. If you will arrange to gather everyone together I will explain to all what it is that needs to be done. Shall we say in one standard hour?'

She inclined her head.

Draal smiled, satisfied in the message he had delivered; he observed her as she remained seated, the proud lifting of her head and he remembered the comfort that could be drawn from a simple touch. His insubstantial existence had its drawbacks. 'Until later, Delenn.'

Affection warmed her face. 'Yes. Until later.'

ooOoo

We'd just about made it through breakfast - and it's being kind calling it that - and got ourselves looking respectable again when the summons came: we were all being hauled in for a meeting, no exceptions, no excuses. It was almost like being back in barracks.

Except, of course, that our current digs were a lot more comfortable than any barracks I'd ever known and if Della had been inhabiting the bunk next to mine I would never have left the army.

We'd had fun playing with the communicating door but once we'd got it open I regretted it almost immediately; Mike is usually a grouch in the morning and I'm used to him that way. I'd forgotten that he's as annoying as all hell when he's in a good mood. His grin entered the room ten minutes before the rest of him did. With that and the way I'd found him earlier wandering the corridors it didn't take a genius to figure out that the cause of all this good humour was a certain Susan Ivanova, Commander.

Which was fine for both of them; I wished them the best of luck. If they had a fling to be flung I hoped that they enjoyed it. But I'd got to know Mike pretty well by then and I would put money of this being more than just a fling for him; and the commander didn't seem the kind of girl who was all that easy. I wondered just what was going to happen when we got out of there.

If we got out of there. If we didn't I guess it was a moot point anyhow.

We got Archie attached to his leash, Mike spent five minutes preening in the mirror and getting his hat just the way he likes it and by the time he was done it was time for us to head off into the steel-lined yonder.

Mike had his hands shoved into his pockets and strutted along like he owned the place, which seems to be his preferred mode of getting from A to B under any circumstances; Della sailed through the crowds, Archie trotting along beside her, like she was strolling down Fifth Avenue. We followed the directions we'd been given which were something along the lines of: leave your room, turn left; left at the blue corridor; right at the next blue corridor; left at the blue corridor after that one and it's the door right in front of you - you can't miss it.

I couldn't believe it when it actually worked - even though we had spent some time standing on a corner bickering amiably about how you define left and right.

Our destination was a meeting room: a big screen on one wall, a steel table in the middle and some potted plants lurking unhappily in the corners. Archie pulled on his leash - dogs always seem to think that the vegetation Human beings leave lying around places is there for the benefit of said dog. No amount of telling them any different ever changes it. Even so, I looked down and said to him, 'Behave yourself, will you? That's just decoration, it's not for you.' He shook himself until his ears flapped, which passed for his rebuttal.

Captain Sheridan was already there along with Delenn, him at the head of the table and her to his right - they were sitting as close together as was possible in public while still keeping it decent. I wondered vaguely how they'd got on the night before but didn't think that they'd welcome speculation on their private lives any more than I did on mine.

Mike looked at them and then looked meaningfully at me. 'You see that? That's what I see most mornings, or at least those mornings when your girl stops by.'

I sighed. 'Mike-'

'I mean, is it nice? Is it polite?'

'Michael!'

'What?'

The voice came from behind me. I turned and found Garibaldi standing in the doorway; he looked between me and Sheridan.

'Hang on, which one of you just bellowed?'

Sheridan pointed at me. 'Him.'

Garibaldi put his eyes on my face and put his eyebrows up. I jerked my thumb at Mike and got that feeling again like my head was going to explode.

'I was talking to him.'

'Ah.' Garibaldi shrugged, grinned, and shoved his hands in his pockets. 'That's okay, then.'

I did wonder if maybe he and Mike had swapped clothes so they could have a little fun at our expense and were just waiting to see how long it would be before the rest of us realised they'd pulled a switch. Even as soon as I'd thought it I told myself that that was a stupid thought - but I did still wonder. It was just the sort of thing that would appeal to what passes for Mike's sense of humour.

Della put herself next to Delenn and they were talking, quietly, their dark heads close together. They looked like a pair of beautiful conspirators. Sheridan looked torn between affection for at least one of the brunettes and apprehension at seeing both of them together like that. I could have told him that apprehension was the right call on that one. I sat opposite the ladies (not just so that I could keep an eye on them... All right, so I like being able to see Della's face and not just her profile during a conversation. There's no law against it.) Garibaldi went next to me and Mike went opposite him. We were short one player but didn't have all that long to wait - Commander Ivanova marched herself in and looked a little pink-eyed only if you looked very closely, which wasn't really the gentlemanly thing to do; and as I like to think of myself as a gentleman at least some of the time I stopped looking immediately.

'Good-morning.' I smiled pleasantly and started to stand. Mike all but leapt out of his chair and all but knee-capped himself in the process. He aimed himself at the chair at the end of the table opposite Sheridan and pulled it out; it scraped across the floor like nails on a blackboard. The commander's face flushed slightly - she looked half pleased and half embarrassed and wholly like she wished he'd stop. Della and Delenn were both looking on benevolently; Garibaldi looked like he was trying very hard to not see anything beyond a tiny patch of table about half an inch square; Sheridan put his eyebrows up and looked at Miss - I mean, Commander - Ivanova like she was the kid sister he was going to torment over this for the rest of her natural life and possibly longer. She got settled in her seat, keeping her shoulders back and her head high, and gave Sheridan the sort of look that sends brave men home crying for their mothers. It just seemed to amuse him more.

'Well,' Sheridan inspected us, 'now that we're all here...'

'Almost,' Delenn said softly, 'there is one more.'

Everyone waited; I looked at the door, like a dope. And then there weren't seven of us in the room, there were eight. A flicker of light in the air that deepened and grew and then a man was standing there. He had a thick barrel chest, long pale robes, and a face that I knew beneath the curved crest around his head. He was a Minbari, like Delenn, and I guessed that this was Draal. He folded his arms and looked at us - a hard, close look that didn't miss anything. Then he took in a long breath through his nose that sounded like a sniff - that clinched it. He was definitely a Drahl, with or without the H.

I looked across at Mike and he was staring with his mouth hanging open - not his best look. I leant across the table to him. 'Hey, buddy, stop making like a haddock, will you?' He closed his mouth.

Archie had sprung up, quivering, and let out one high-pitched bark. Then he trotted forward and gazed up at Draal; Draal looked back down at him gravely and emitted a series of rumbles and almost-growls. Archie rolled over on his back, the picture of the adoring supplicant. Draal was the first character I'd ever known to speak schnauzer and I wondered if he'd give me a few lessons as it might help in getting it into Archie's head once and for all that we own him and not the other way around.

Draal looked pretty satisfied with himself, took a few steps forward over the body of his new acolyte and smiled at my wife.

'Mrs Sheridan - it is a pleasure to see you again.' His voice reverberated around the place and the leaves on the potted plants shook in surrender.

Della inclined her head and murmured that it was the same for her. Then he looked at Mike and I and sniffed again but we were both used to that. 'And you are Mr Sheridan and Mr Garibaldi. I am Draal.'

'You know, I knew that when you showed up,' Mike said. I glared at him but he took no more notice than he does any other time. 'Soon as I saw you I thought, "That's a bird named Draal". Detective, see?'

'Hmm, yes... This is a fascinating turn of events. But on any occasion where Commander Ivanova spends time in the Machine the results are always most interesting.' He beamed at her; she obviously had another admirer. 'Well.' We got his eyes all over us again and then he took a deep breath. 'I have been working in the Machine to find a way of resolving this situation-'

'That's great,' Mike said. 'Any idea how it happened to begin with?'

Draal pushed his lips in and out; I had the impression that he wasn't accustomed to being interrupted - if there was any interrupting to be done, he'd be the one doing it. 'It takes time for the Machine to adjust to a new consciousness within it,' he intoned, 'I believe that during Commander Ivanova's momentary distraction it misconstrued her intentions. This would not be the first time that such a misunderstanding has arisen: it has happened even to me. On my first day in the heart of the Machine it misinterpreted my annoyance at a small winged insect that had landed on my nose and as a result this very station was nearly blown up.'

I glanced at Sheridan; he had this stiff, glassy-eyed look. Whatever he was about to say he never got the chance because Draal continued.

'But that is no matter. Commander Ivanova's thoughts coincided with a power surge during her connection with her counterpart in your time.' He looked at the three of us significantly. 'I can assure you that no harm has come to your Miss Ivanova - she awaits your return.'

'Oh, thank God,' Della said softly. She looked across at me and I gave her a discreet smile of the reassuring type that she returned; I'd been fairly certain that our Miss Susan would be all right but it was nice to know that I was right - and it was one less thing for Della to worry about.

'Indeed. These factors acted together; you were ripped from your home and brought here. An extraordinary event.' His eyes gleamed. 'The mysteries of the Machine are extensive - even now I have not mastered them. That is the work of a lifetime and more.' He was silent for a moment; his eyes had a faraway look, the way someone does when they think about the thing they love best in world. Then he came back and his eyes got turned on us again. 'I have found the means whereby the power surge can be replicated and with Commander Ivanova's help in establishing contact with your own temporal plain, I believe that we can return you home.'

You would have thought that news like that would be the cause of celebration - you'd have expected a small cheer at the very least. Home. We were going home. No-one said anything.

Delenn cleared her throat after a moment and turned to Della. 'You will see your sister again.'

'Maya. Yes.'

I knew how much that would mean to Della; as sisters went they weren't all that alike but they were close - it wouldn't do either of them any good to be apart for too long. I thought about my own family - I hadn't really let myself think about not seeing them again. It had been a possibility that I'd known was there but had done my best to ignore. I hadn't been out to see them for a while and figured that when we got back it would be right about time. Dad would have got a real kick out of all of this - it was a pity I wouldn't be able to tell him about it.

Della had put her hand on Delenn's arm and didn't say anything more. She has a lot of acquaintances and some friends but there are few people she's intimate with; I guess that she'd found that with Delenn - and vice versa - and it wouldn't be easy for them now.

And then there was Mike. I glanced at him. He was looking at the commander and she was studying the table. Neither of them looked too happy. Mike isn't the sort of person who lets himself go too often - he's about as easy to get close to as a cactus; and for all he jokes and likes to make out that he's the big-talking lone-wolf, he can be sentimental about women. It would have been easy to dismiss what had happened (whatever that was, precisely) between him and Commander Ivanova except for two things: that sort of thing doesn't happen to him very often; and the same sort of thing had already happened to me, so I knew how it could feel - as though your life suddenly made sense and you could stop waiting for that thing to happen that you didn't even know you'd been waiting for. I glanced at Della again. We'd been lucky.

'So, uh, when is this going to happen?' I asked.

Draal inhaled through his nose with a sound like the sea rushing in at high tide. 'Everything is ready; as soon as you have collected whichever possessions you brought with you, I suggest that you make the journey down to Epsilon Three.' There was another pause. 'Commander. You are prepared for this?'

She straightened in her chair; her lips had thinned to a hard line and she met his eyes. 'Of course.'

'Good. You will need to be.'

'Whoa, hang on a moment.' Mike leant forward, his elbows heavy on the table. 'What were those looks?'

'What looks?' Sheridan asked.

'The looks you three have been throwing around.' He looked at the captain, Delenn and Garibaldi. 'You look like you've got something on your minds - something to do with this shindig? What is it?'

He had a point - they all looked uneasy and were looking at each other the way that people do when they can communicate things without needing words.

'Mike...' Susan's voice was soft. 'Let it go.'

If he'd been a bull, those words would have been the red rag. 'Let it go? So there is something, huh? What?'

Delenn had wrapped her arms around herself, one hand moving to the back of her neck. I recognised that movement, that gesture; I'd seen it many times before and I knew it meant that something was wrong. Mike's eyes blazed.

'What? You lot haven't exactly been lost for words before but now you're silent?'

'Mike-'

He ignored me. 'Just what the hell is it you want her to do?'

The silence was heavy, something that weighed against our ears.

'In order for Commander Ivanova to contact your Miss Ivanova,' Draal said, 'her mind and her body must be connected and yet separate; she must reach across the continuum of time and space and they are both ... unstable.'

'Unstable. Unstable?' Mike nodded. He had one hand resting on top of the table and it clenched hard until the knuckles turned white; his head tilted back, his chin jutting out. 'What will that do to her? You were down there,' he turned on Della and she started, 'you saw what happened the last time; what's the deal, huh?'

'Take it easy,' I told him. I felt for him, but there were still lines.

'I'm just asking a question. Well?' His voice rose.

Archie drew his lips back from his teeth and growled, his four paws set square.

'Archie, be quiet.' Della picked him up, holding him on her lap. He stared at Mike accusingly. Della glanced at Susan; when she spoke it was carefully. 'When I arrived, Susan was strapped into the Machine-'

'I was fine.'

Della's face tautened. 'You were unconscious.'

I looked at Susan and her face was hard; she didn't look at Mike and it must have taken an effort for her not to. Or maybe she just found it easier not to. This whole thing had started off as an adventure and now it was just a damn mess.

'Maybe we should put this on hold for a couple of days,' Sheridan said; he was rubbing his thumb along the side of his finger again, 'have a look at what our options are.'

'We don't have any options,' Susan said sharply. 'This is it; you know that. I know that; we all know that. Putting it off won't help. Let's just get this over with.'

'Susan-'

She cut Mike off, already standing up from her chair. 'I'm sorry. I'll get a flyer sorted out.'

She walked out. Mike was still in his chair and he looked stunned.

Sheridan stood up, took a few paces along the length of the table then came back and looked at Draal. 'Just how much danger is she in doing this?'

Draal folded his arms again and rumbled; he seemed to study the middle of Sheridan's chest for a moment and then looked up. 'I will watch over her, I will endeavour to exert what control over the Machine I can - that is problematic when I am not in it. I would surmise that the risk is minimal - but there are no guarantees.'

Sheridan ran a hand through his hair. 'I don't like this.' He addressed it to Delenn.

'I know. But I believe that Draal and Susan are both correct - this is the only way.'

And if Delenn believed it then he would too. I wasn't too sent on the idea of putting Susan (either of them) in any kind of firing line for our sakes but we didn't seem to be getting any say in the matter.

'Yes, yes, I guess...'

'And we all go?' Mike didn't sound too hopeful.

'You all go,' Draal informed him. 'Your being here is a disruption in the fabric of time - no-one can say what the consequences of that may be.'

'There might not be any, you ever think of that?'

Draal smiled a little - it was indulgent but sympathetic at the same time. 'There are always consequences.'

Mike kept looking at him for a few seconds and then turned away, staring out the door that Susan had passed through. The lines of his face looked deeper and harsh; I'd never seen him look old before but, quite suddenly, he looked it then. Old, tired and a little defeated.

'When you are ready,' Draal said, 'I will be waiting.'

He faded from view in pretty much the same way he had appeared. Garibaldi was the first to move; he stood up, tugged at his jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets. 'Well, I, uh... Probably some security things I have to check.' His eyes moved over us all and then he left.

We were a quiet and pretty sorry bunch around the table: Sheridan leaning both hands against the back of his chair and the rest of us sitting. Della still had Archie on her lap and she had her fingers buried in the hair at the back of his neck. He was the only one who seemed content. I watched Mike and tried to think of something to say; as Mike would put it, I was already taking gold in the Failed Friend of the Year sweepstakes. As I would put it, I felt helpless and hated myself for it.

'Mike-'

'Skip it.' He looked at me. 'I'll see you later, okay?'

And then there were four.

Della shifted in her seat. 'Will, uh, will you be coming down to the planet with us?' She addressed it to both the captain and Delenn. They looked at each other; it was Sheridan who answered.

'No... I think it's probably better if some of us stay behind.'

'Yes, of course. I understand. But we will see you, before..?'

'Of course you will.' He smiled at her. Delenn put her hand on Della's arm this time.

'Well,' I said, 'we better go get ourselves ready if we're shipping out.'

Sheridan nodded. 'I'll come by your quarters to take you to the docking bay - is an hour enough time?'

'Plenty.'

It wasn't an unfriendly silence but it wasn't exactly companionable either; it was more the sort of silence that happens when people who are used to talking a lot suddenly don't know what to say. Della and I left; as we turned out the door I saw Sheridan make his way back to the table and sit down next to Delenn.

We wandered through the corridors and I'm not sure that either of us knew exactly where we were going. We were supposed to be going back to our quarters but somehow weren't quite making it. There was an archway in one wall that looked familiar - I took hold of Della's hand and pulled her through it. It was the same garden that I'd found myself in the day before; the same one where I'd ended up sitting trying to figure out how to get myself out of there and how to find my wife.

She let go of Archie's leash and he trotted off into the undergrowth, the leather cord trailing behind him. The garden was bigger than I'd realised - a little way along the path it opened up onto a wider space and there was a big bulge of glass curving above us. I squinted up at it and finally figured that it was the restaurant we'd been in the night before. Della wandered restlessly; I stood next to a bush with big red flowers and waited. She turned at the end of a path and started back to me.

'Quite a place, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

I cleared my throat. 'I, uh, I know you'll miss her. Delenn,' I clarified, just in case she'd missed the blindingly obvious. 'I'm sorry about that.'

Della looked at me and looked a little astonished. 'John...' She said it softly and touched my face with the tips of her fingers.

'It's silly, isn't it? I only met her yesterday.'

'Yeah, well...' I cleared my throat again. I thought about Della and then I thought about Mike and Susan. 'Sometimes that's all it takes.'

She smiled then - that kind of smile that would make a man claw his way out of hell just to see again. 'Sometimes.'

I used the excuse of a few strands of hair that weren't actually there to caress her cheek; she leant against my hand. It was one of those moments that happens to me sometimes when I look at her (okay, that happens quite a lot): like I'm falling into the still centre of a storm but it doesn't matter how long I fall because she'll always be there at the end and the beginning.

'The return journey sounds a blast,' I said, 'knowing our luck, plaything, we'll end up in another galaxy in the twenty-sixth century or something.'

'Perhaps. I don't seem to care. I'm not afraid of that; I'm not afraid of anything, not as long as you're with me.'

'I am always with you.' I had my arms around her waist and studied her for a moment. 'Have I told you today how much I love you?'

There it was again - that smile. 'Yes; but you can tell me again anyway.'

I did tell her; she put her arms around my neck and I kissed her; I held her until I felt a familiar bump against my leg. When I looked down I found two round black eyes staring back up from under a grey fringe.

'Never a moment's peace,' Della complained.

'You're telling me.' We rearranged ourselves: I got hold of the leash in one hand and put my other arm around Della's shoulders; she put her arm around me, pulling me closer to her side. I looked at her, surprised; this time her smile tried to be demure but didn't quite make it.

'It's a new world, darling. Women can be much more demonstrative in public.'

'Hold that thought.' I tightened my hold on her a little. 'Come on, sweetheart - time to go.'

_TBC_


	17. Every Time We Say Goodbye

**ooOoo**

**Every Time We Say Goodbye**

**ooOoo**

Captain Sheridan was as good as his word: he arrived at the door of our rooms with the promptness one would expect from a military man. He and John exchanged those curt nods that I have noticed men deploy when they have some emotion that they do not wish to admit to. It was rather touching in its way. Mike joined us in the corridor outside our suites and he looked just the same as he ever did - except that his smile was more fixed than usual and there was a hardness in his eyes that was not normally seen. When he greeted us it was almost as though he were daring us to ask him how he was; none of us did.

Our final walk through the passages of the station was a strange one - it seemed quieter than before and I had the oddest sensation, as though I were walking through a film come to life rather than a real place. Heads turned in our direction, as they had done before, but the interest was transitory. Judging by what had been told to us - and all the things that had not been - it was not difficult to surmise that people had far more pressing matters to worry about than us.

We were taken to one of the docking bays: a cavernous space on a monumental scale, just like everything else there. It had been cleared of personnel, Captain Sheridan informed us; that was, doubtless, more with the aim of reducing awareness of our presence - and soon-to-be departure - but I was grateful for the relative privacy it afforded.

Delenn was already there, as were Mr Garibaldi and Susan. The latter looked pale and her eyes bright. She was holding herself so rigidly that it seemed impossible that she would not break with one touch. She looked at Mike as we approached and there was a fleeting spasm at the corners of her mouth. Once we had reached them Mike walked past the others, took hold of her elbow and she went with him, unresisting, to a shadowy corner some distance away. We all acted as though we were blind to this, which was the only kindness we were able to give them.

My arm had been through John's - we detached ourselves now and I turned myself towards Mr Garibaldi who was closest to me and I was grateful for that. This was the least painful parting and I was glad to be able to talk to him while I was still capable of coherent speech.

'Mr Garibaldi-'

'Hey, I told you - it's Michael.'

I smiled. 'Michael.'

We observed one another for a moment. He sighed.

'I'm sure you'll be glad to get home but, uh, well it doesn't really feel like it's been long enough - y'know?'

'Yes, I know.'

On the periphery of my vision I could see John talking quietly to Delenn; Captain Sheridan stood, his hands clasped behind his back, unobtrusive but taking everything in. It had not been long enough; a lifetime would not be long enough.

I inclined my head towards our former hosts. 'Keep an eye on them, won't you?'

His eyebrows arched at me, almost as though he were shocked I should even have thought it necessary to ask. 'Hey, of course I will. I've always got their backs.'

'And take care of yourself, Michael.' I leant forward and kissed him lightly on one cheek. He cleared his throat.

'Yeah, uh, you too. Take real good care.'

He took hold of my free hand and squeezed it for a moment before letting me go and I passed along to Captain Sheridan.

'Well.'

'Well. I'm afraid I don't have any dreams to tell you,' I said, 'I consider that most unfair.'

'I think it's probably just as well.' He laughed, his face brightening in that way that I knew so well and loved so well. They were good men, these Sheridan males: kindness, decency, integrity - it was imprinted in their very bones.

'Thank-you, for everything.'

He frowned slightly, puzzled. 'I didn't do anything.'

I smiled again and decided to let him work on it by himself. 'I have something for you.' The little bundle was surprisingly heavy; I had it wrapped up in a handkerchief - John's display one, not my own: the lace had proved too flimsy - and I was glad to be rid of it. The captain took the oddly-shaped item carefully, pulling back the corners of scarlet silk. The glare of lighting from overhead caught one of the facets, refracting in the prism. He looked up at me. 'This- I can't-'

'You can and you will,' I told him. 'The jewels are very pretty but that's about all the good they do me; it isn't much-'

He stared at me as though I had lost my mind.

'I mean that it isn't much compared with what you need; consider it a contribution to the war chest.' The necklace, the bracelet, the clips... I had given everything but my wedding band. 'And consider it my choosing a side, not sitting on the sidelines. Somehow I have the feeling that no matter what else may occur we always end up on the same side, you and I.'

I was aware of Delenn close beside us - we were both aware of that, I have no doubt - but we looked at one another.

'I don't know what to say.' He shook his head. 'You don't have to do this.'

'I want to. And don't say anything; there isn't anything to say, is there?'

'Maybe not.' He covered the diamonds again, held the package at his side. 'You know, I am sorry that you got dragged into all of ... this; but I'm not entirely sorry that I got to meet you.'

'Good - I'd be most offended if you were.'

He put one hand on my arm, just above the elbow. 'Goodbye, Della.'

'Goodbye.'

We kissed one another on each cheek, respectfully, and at the last moment embraced; he felt solid and strange and familiar all at the same time; he smelt of clean cotton and soap and something else behind it that I recognised immediately. I felt my throat tighten and pressure begin to build behind my eyes. We released one another and I turned and found Delenn.

ooOoo

With all the muted conversations going on it should have been pretty quiet in that docking bay but it wasn't; the size of the place seemed to catch and amplify every sound until it sounded like a thousand people were all whispering at once.

Mike had wandered off with Susan and I reckoned that it was probably about one of the hardest conversations he'd ever have in his life; and the surroundings weren't exactly what anyone would have wanted for the big farewell. They certainly weren't what I would have chosen but as our options had been about zero since this thing had started there was no reason for that to change now.

Once Della let go of my arm I found myself opposite Delenn and we looked at each other for a while, both wearing matching strained smiles. I remembered the shock of seeing her for the first time - this exotic stranger with my wife's face - and how she had become my first friend here. That part seemed quite natural by now. She watched me gravely, which made me start to fidget.

'It still suits you better when you smile,' I told her. It shocked her into smiling even if she hadn't meant to; and everything else still seemed a little dimmer by comparison. Well, everything but the brunette in grey hovering nearby. 'There you go, that's much better.'

Her face relaxed a little and she tilted her head. 'I hope that you return to your home in safety, but ... but I will miss you, all of you, once you have gone.'

'And we'll miss you. And who else is going to point out Drazis and Narns to me when I can't tell one from another?' She almost laughed, her eyes crinkling. I was silent for a moment, thinking something over and then decided to go for broke; we were headed home and I would never see her again. Any man could be forgiven for getting a little reckless. I cleared my throat, took a breath, glanced sideways at Sheridan and said to her, 'Look, I know this is none of my business, but- See, the thing is-' Hell. I stopped and tried again. 'I was married before - before Della, that is - and, well, my wife died and...' There was a strange look on her face- No, not her face. Her face was pale and controlled - it was in her eyes. I had started so I thought that I may as well finish. 'It took a long time before I felt anything for anyone again, not until I met Della, and then- Well, once I'd made up my mind that was pretty much it. And speaking as _a _John Sheridan, I know what we're like. I know I don't really know anything about either of your histories but, uh, I know he's made up his mind about you, it's just... It just takes time. You know?'

It would not go down as one of history's great speeches. I ran a hand through my hair and studied a bit of nothing just beyond her left ear.

Delenn's eyes dropped from my face for a moment and then looked up at me again so I looked back at her; her eyes glowed and she smiled softly. 'Yes, I know.'

'Good. Good, that's good. Great.' I took a breath and decided to ignore the last two minutes. 'And look out for those talking elevators - they can be sneaky.'

Delenn laughed then. 'I will remember.'

I held out a hand and she took it, her fingers small and slim in mine. 'Well, Madam Ambassador, it has been a true pleasure to know you.'

'And you.'

I raised her hand to my lips and kissed the smooth skin; her cheeks flushed faintly. She still looked good like that. I took a step back just in time to see Della disengaging herself from Sheridan and she and Delenn faced each other.

Della doesn't cry easily or all that often but her eyes were swimming then. I felt a bit like I was prying into a private scene but there wasn't really anywhere for me to go.

Delenn made a soft noise in the back of her throat and said, 'Minbari do not have a word for goodbye.'

'That's good,' Della said and her voice was tight; I could see the hollow at the base of her throat vibrating under the strain. 'That's good, because it isn't really goodbye, is it? Not for us. Not any of us.'

'Perhaps not.'

They stared at each other for a long time, both seemingly trying to find something to say. Della swallowed hard. 'Try to have more fun.'

'I will.' Delenn smiled, amused. 'And for you... I hope that you find your place.'

I had no idea what they were talking about but it looked like it meant a lot to them. Della nodded and then tilted her head.

'I no longer think that you can _find_ your place; I think that you have to make it for yourself - like you have done.'

They held onto each other then; I saw Della whisper something to Delenn but it was too soft for me to hear - it wasn't meant for anybody else, anyway. Delenn nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. Della moved away: her face looked ragged and she brushed the back of her hand against her cheek. I would have done anything to spare her that pain if I could. While they both took a moment to pull themselves together again, Sheridan, Garibaldi and I did what men usually do when women get emotional - we shuffled our feet and looked uncomfortable. Sheridan was watching Delenn and looked like all he wanted to do was wrap her up and keep her safe. While he was mulling over that I looked Garibaldi in the eye and stuck out my hand. He took it and pumped it heartily.

'Michael.'

'John.'

That covered it so we left it there. Sheridan was standing next to him trying his best to look unconcerned and it was strange to realise that that's what I look like when I do the same thing.

'Don't look now,' I said to him, 'but I can't think of anything to say.'

He laughed. 'Yeah, yeah, okay. You win.'

I grinned back. 'Actually, I thought of one thing - there's an ancient Egyptian blessing I know.'

He stared at me and then one corner of his mouth turned up. 'I think I already know it.'

It was my turn to stare but I wasn't entirely surprised. 'Tell me something - does he still wear his cowboy boots?'

Sheridan laughed again - amusement and affection. 'Oh, only all the time.'

We both laughed at that. I guess Sheridan was an okay kind of guy - I hoped it would all work out for him. We gripped one another by the hand. 'Good luck.' He could apply that to anything he liked. Sheridan nodded.

'Yeah, you too.'

From their private corner, Mike and Susan walked towards us; they both stared ahead and they both looked like slightly different people from before. It had been a final goodbye and no-one's ever quite the same after that. Susan stopped by Sheridan and Garibaldi and talked to them quietly. Mike drew his lips back in a smile that looked more like a rictus; he clapped his hands together and then said to Della, 'Okay, Dorothy, time to blow this coop.'

She stiffened and her eyes flashed. 'I am nothing like my Aunt Dorothy.'

He gawked at her; I couldn't help it - I laughed. She rounded on me.

'I'm not!'

'Baby, I never said you were.'

'Then why are you laughing?'

'I- Hey, hadn't you better get Archie?'

He'd taken himself off to investigate - and I remembered how well that had ended the last time. Della trotted after him and I could hear her lecturing him all the way around the bay.

'Dorothy?'

Mike grinned at me. 'I didn't know Della had an Aunt Dorothy.'

I thought about the lady in question. 'You wouldn't want to know her - one look at Aunt Dorothy is enough to sober up any man.' Mike shuddered. I didn't really know what to say to him but as he seemed to want to play it easy I though the best I could do was go along with it. 'I know I'll regret asking this, but who have you got pegged as the Cowardly Lion?'

'Uh...' His eyes slipped past me to Susan. With the mass of tawny waves down her back there was a vague resemblance - in the same way that Archie vaguely resembles a wolf.

'I'd pay money to see you say that to her face.'

He tilted his hat back on his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. 'No dice, Scarecrow.'

'What makes me the Scarecrow?'

He squinted at me. 'I dunno - just seems to fit somehow.'

ooOoo

The nifty flying taxi that we were due to take down to the place where Draal hung his hat looked like a big hunk of metal with fins sticking out in odd places. That's probably because when it came down to it, all it was was a big hunk of metal. We lurked next to it doing our goodbye routines and it took longer than I would have thought it would take for people who didn't even know about each other's existences the day before. I had a moment with the fine upstanding citizen that was Michael A. Garibaldi - and figured it was just my luck that when I'd finally found someone who understood and appreciated me it was time to blow. But thems the breaks, huh? Miss America took three sentences to say what could have been done in a word but it was sweet of her to make the effort: I took her little hand in both of my big paws and she smiled at me - and she was another one who had a smile that would make a man feel like his spine had been hi-jacked. I gave Sheridan a month, tops. That big mook pumped my hand - I had to admit that he was, after all, a stand-up guy. If there was a galaxy to be saved, he was probably the one to do it. On that score I figured it was just as well we were going otherwise I'd have ended up going on that galaxy-saving ride with him. And John would have wanted some of that action and...

Best to split while the galaxy was still in one piece.

I was standing with John and Della - once she'd returned from chasing the hound - and Susan marched herself over to us. She was in commander mode, all barked words and brusque movements. I tried to think of five things about her I didn't like, just to keep myself amused - I got stuck for one and figured that that wasn't all that funny.

'Are you ready?' It was meant for all of us but she managed to include me out of her gaze when she asked it. I didn't take it hard. I was sort of glad of it. I'd meant everything I'd said to her and if she'd meant even half of what she'd said... Well, it wasn't the sort of stuff you come back from too easy.

'I think so.' John inspected us like we were his troops and it was up to him to say yay or nay on our readiness for battle; I guess that when he nodded it meant that we were up to scratch. And that was pretty much it. John and Della took a final moment to look back at our hosts; I felt sort of stuck in the middle: them on one side, the captain and Delenn on the other. Sheridan glanced at the dish next to him and put his arm around her shoulders; she glanced back and leant against him. So far, so familiar. And that was the last we saw of them.

We got marshalled up a ramp by Susan and the four of us - five if you counted Archie, which of course I did, on pain of a disapproving look from Della – got ourselves all nice and cosy-like in the interior of the taxi – Susan playing hackie. Della played it cool as she'd already been on one of these joy-rides before. Neither me nor John had, so we were like the two kids stuck in the backseat wanting to know if we're there yet.

John more than me, 'cos he's got that inquiring mind.

Our ride took off and we floated through a big opening into what was deepest, darkest space. Okay, I don't how deep it was but as it turns out it wasn't all that dark. And I finally got a look at the coop I'd been calling home for the last twenty-four hours. It was pretty big. Five miles long sounds long when you say it, but until you've seen five miles of metal hanging around in the sky, you have no idea. There were big blueish things swimming along nearby – they looked a bit like the King Kong of angel-fish and I didn't know if they were space ships or space monsters. They didn't look to be eating anything so I figured that whatever they were they were friendly.

I looked across at John and he looked like one of those kids you see outside candy stores – the ones with the goofy expressions and the pinwheel eyes. I looked at Della and jerked my head in the big lug's direction.

'We're never going to get him home, you know that?'

She'd been pretty quiet since we hitched this ride but that got something out of her that almost looked like a smile. She raised her voice some: 'If you don't get your nose off that window I'll cancel your subscription to _Astounding Science Fiction_ magazine.'

'Huh?' He looked at her vaguely and then he got that look like Bugs Bunny caught in Elmer Fudd's crosshairs. 'How did you- Hey, did you spill?' He glared at me. I held up my hands.

'Who, me? Nuh-uh, not on a bet. I don't get involved when a woman goes through her husband's drawers. No, sir.'

The accusing eye got turned on Della. She got that stiff, unconcerned air that classy types like her get when they're making like the doings of ordinary folk are beneath them.

'I was looking for a clean glass.'

'Right.'

She rolled her eyes and John all but smirked at her.

I leant back in my seat. 'Anyone feel like a game of "I Spy"?'

Della groaned audibly.

'Great, I'll go first...'

John got it on the first go but I guess that was my fault for choosing something beginning with S and having that thing being space. He was humouring me. He likes to have someone to take care of and as there was no-one else around that he could practise being brotherly on, I was getting the benefit of his expertise. I could have told him I was fine, which I was. There was a damn great hole in my chest where my heart used to be, but who needs a heart anyway? Love is for saps and I was done with it.

Susan hadn't made a sound except for talking to some guy back in that big metal shack of a space station of hers. Della kept glancing at her and then chewing on her lip. Then she'd glance at me and give her lip a little more tooth action. She was driving me crazy. But by the time I started whistling _We're Off To See The Wizard_, and John had joined in on vocals, she unbent enough to add her contralto to proceedings. We'd worked it up to a nice three-part harmony by the time our cab took a dive into some damn great hole in the ground and some time after that we touched base. We were back on solid ground and when I say solid, I mean solid – everything around us was made of rock.

'It's this way,' Susan said, with the manner of a woman who knows. We trailed after her. I couldn't see anyone else clogging up the joint but I still kept getting this feeling like we were being watched.

'Hey,' I said to Della out of the corner of my mouth, 'are there any Munchkins down here?'

'I-'

'My God! Have you seen this?'

That would be John, who was a few steps ahead of us, and who had just walked out onto a bridge and was staring around at where he'd found himself. Me, I thought it was impressive, but not what you would call homey. My partner looked like a kid who had not only found Santa Claus' dugout but had found all of his Christmas presents for a decade at once. I looked at Della and she was looking at John with that starry-eyed thing she does sometimes when he's around. I left them to it.

I hurried after Susan but didn't manage to catch her up until we made it to the joint where Draal was hanging out in a hole in the wall. There was some square black gizmo sitting under his cosy little niche with wires that he was all hooked up to; I couldn't say I was exactly wild about the idea that Susan would be next up in the batter box.

I heard footsteps behind me, which meant that the last of my posse had turned up - I wondered what it was that Della had used to lure her boy along but decided that all things considered I didn't really want to know.

Susan looked up at the guy with the wires. 'Draal? We're here.'

'So I see.'

His voice was there before the rest of him was - I got the feeling that Draal was a bird who liked to make an entrance. Maybe he was really just a frustrated actor on the inside and all the poor guy wanted was a dressing room he could call his own and a curtain-call each night. But you can't always get what you want. He glowed at us as he appeared and beamed around. Archie reared up on his back legs and nearly yanked Della's arm out its socket.

'Commander,' Draal boomed, 'are you ready?' He seemed quite fond of Susan, which should have made him aces in my book. It probably would have done except that he was the character who was bent on hooking her up into something that made Old Sparky look like a good bet for a cosy sit-down and a bit of shut-eye.

Susan nodded, once, like she'd change her mind if she tried for anything more. I guess I was still kinda hoping that she would change her mind - but hope is another thing that's for saps.

'Excellent. Then we shall begin.'

'Uh... Draal...' Susan looked at him and then looked up at his body that was up collecting dust in its hole.

'Ah! Of course - I do keep forgetting that.' The non-solid Draal stepped up onto the platform and sort of soaked back into his body. His eyes opened and he got down with a hand from John (who was probably working on points towards his Helpfulness Badge or something). Draal moved stiffly, which I suppose is what happens when you don't move around all that much; he practically creaked as he eased himself down off the platform. He took a moment to tweak at his fancy toga thing and then folded his arms across his chest.

'Hmph.'

He had a way with rumbles and grunts, I can tell you.

Susan stepped up and I went with her; she didn't really need my help but I gave it anyway and she took it, squeezing my hand tight as she used me for a ladder. She could have used me for a doormat if she'd wanted - I'd have lain down at her feet and let her get on with it.

'That's new,' she said, as Draal ran some wires from the box to the whole dingus she was strapped into.

'It is designed to replicate the circumstances of your last encounter with the past,' he said. Then he rattled on about something that sounded like tacky-on something or others that made no sense to me. John was standing watching the whole thing and one would get you ten that he'd have been strapping himself in there to see what the ride was like if anyone had let him. I tuned them out and looked at Susan; she wasn't exactly bad-looking so watching her face wasn't much of a chore.

'Mr Garibaldi.'

'Uh-huh?'

There was a pause and I looked at Draal. Eventually. He stared at me and I have to admit that there was sympathy in his eyes. 'You should join your friends.'

'Oh. Oh, yeah, right.'

I stepped down and stood with them. John clapped his hand on my shoulder and my knees nearly buckled under the pressure. Draal flipped some switches on the little black box then turned a dial clockwise. We waited. Nothing happened. Susan had closed her eyes, which I thought was a real pity because I would have liked another look at them – they were clear and deep-blue like the sky over the East River on a sunny day.

She caught her breath suddenly, her face twitching like she was in pain. I felt like tearing her out of the damn hot seat and letting everything else go to hell. But I didn't. I just stood there and let it happen. Her skin started to shine: what with that and Draal standing watching over things and the three of us down on the floor it was like the goddess, the high priest and the worshippers all hanging out at prayer-time. I did get my wish about her eyes, though – they popped open but they were glassy and unseeing. Then there was another glow in the air and a version of Susan appeared, just like Draal had.

'I've found it. I can take you back there but we all have to be connected.'

I got what she meant. I stepped forward and took hold of her hand; it was a pretty screwy set up – like taking hold of very thick air. I reached back for Della and she slipped one hand into mine and kept her free arm clamped around the mutt. John put one arm around Della, then reached out to take Susan's other hand and complete the sewing circle. A shock went through me, a few hundred volts' worth, and Draal and his rocky enclosure started slipping away, like we were looking out the front car on the subway. Light rushed past us as we hurtled through the shadows. And through it all I caught glimpses of things: other cities, other worlds; other Mikes, other Susans - sometimes we were even together. Sometimes I even saw a golden-haired girl with smoky eyes and a slow smile. And most of the time I saw other Johns and Dellas – and they were always together. Then came the jolt, the feeling like we had made a hard landing, knees locking together. My stomach thrashed like fish caught in a net and I dragged in a breath. I dropped both hands I was holding.

It had been late evening when we'd left, the last rays of the red sun crawling across the office floor through the fogged windows. Now it was night. The desk-lamps had been turned on; there was a sheaf of papers scattered on the floor - this was pretty much where we'd come in. And a girl in a red dress sat in our best client chair with her head in her hands.

'Hey, kiddo.'

It was John's voice and he sounded like he was coming from the Staten Island ferry on a foggy day. The girl in the chair looked up; her face was white and trembling.

'John? Della? Mike!'

I had the mother of all headaches and screwed my eyes up against it as though if I couldn't see it, it couldn't hurt me. It didn't help. Neither did Susan's voice rising, which is never a good sign at the best of times.

'What happened to you? One minute you're here and then gone – and now you're back? And-and why do you look like that?'

She stared at us; I took a step back and I looked at us. John and Della were glowing faintly; even the hound had an angelic halo going on around him. I figured that I must have the same set up working itself on me. As I looked at them the shininess faded and John managed to peel his arm off Della; she moved forward and took hold of both of Susan's hands, rubbing them between her own.

'Oh, Susan, I'm sorry. I know what it must have seemed like...'

That's dames for you – give 'em the chance to get all teary and they'll take it. Susan was trying to talk and cry at the same time and in the end she looked past me and said, 'Who is she? What's she doing here – I saw her! Just before you all disappeared, I saw her!'

I turned around; Susan Ivanova – Commander Ivanova – was still standing behind me, just there in the doorway. She was glowing slightly.

'She's, uh... That's...'

'It's okay,' John said smoothly. It's things like this that remind me why I keep him around. 'She's ... a guide.'

'A guide?' Susan looked at her military counterpart and squeaked. 'But she- She looks- You have to get her out of here; my mother can't see her!'

And that's when it all started to go down the tubes.

'Your mother?' Della's voice was sharp.

'Yes – she called just before, just after you- She could tell I was upset and she's coming over with Papa. They'll be here soon.'

'Mama...'

It was the Susan behind me who spoke. There was something in her voice I didn't like – something deep and raw. Old pain that had never really gone away and probably never would. She walked across the room, looking at our little Girl Friday and took hold of both her hands. They stared at each other, both breathing hard.

'Susan- What-what are you doing?' Della watched them, her hands flexed at her sides. I didn't know what it was that she knew but I was starting to get the picture.

'I don't know... I don't what I'm... I don't know.'

They were both glowing now; I could see Susan-in-Red trying to get away, her shoulders bracing for the struggle but the other girl had hold of her too hard. And then it was like a ripple ran through both of them and one of them looked more solid and the other one started to fade.

'No... No! Susan, please! You-you'll send her back; you'll send her I don't know where... You have to stop this!'

'I just want to see my mother.' It was a voice that had no reason in it.

'But she's not your mother!'

The commander looked like she'd been slapped; she looked at Della and then dropped her twin's hand. Susan sank to the floor looking like a puppet whose strings had been cut; she was crumpled, her eyes closed, and she didn't move. Della knelt next to her, John on the other side. The other Susan watched them, looking a little horrified at what she'd done – even if she hadn't meant to. A lot of people do things they don't mean – the outcome with or without intent isn't any different.

Our office was in an old building and at that time of day you can hear every creak and groan from just about every floor. From the end of the corridor beyond the outer office we heard the sudden screeching lurch as the elevator car engaged. Someone in the lobby had called it down. John looked across at Della.

'That's probably the Ivanovs... Stall them.'

Della was still for all of two seconds and then stood up, crossing to the door; her eyes had that hard, bright light they get when she's doing business. Her heels rang against the floor of the outer office, fainter as she headed for the stairwell. John was still next to the unconscious Miss Ivanova: he tried to pick her up but his hand passed through her. I stood there, feeling about as much use as an amputated leg, and waited for him to do something. He swore under his breath and carried on staring at Susan. She was fading fast; I could see the worn pattern of our cheap rug clear through her chest.

And I realised that John wasn't going to pull one of his usual heroic stunts – it was up to me this time.

I looked at Susan – Commander Susan, that is – and she was looking over her shoulder, back towards the dark corridor that led to the elevator, the one that Andrei and Sophia would be riding up in any second unless Della managed to head them off.

'Mama...'

I walked towards her and took her face between my hands. Everything changed in that second: the world became a series of flickering lights and shadow, like a film being played at half-speed on a beat-up projector.

'Don't do this, please. Baby, I'm begging you, don't do this.'

'I... I just want to see her.'

'I know; I know that.' She felt real under my hands – real and solid and warm. Her eyes shone, hard as sapphires. 'It's not fair, I know that. But that's not your mother. Sophia is not your mother; you're not her daughter. You don't know each other – and if you send her daughter away that's three hearts you're breaking: Sophia's and Susan's and yours.'

I didn't include mine – it was already too far gone to be worth saving.

'This is so unfair.' She looked right at me then, right into my eyes; there was a spasm across her face, like pain. 'Why can't I ever have what I want? I don't want to go.'

I had hold of her so hard it must have hurt but neither of us seemed to care. 'I wish you could stay, God knows I do; or that I could stay with you. But you can't; and I can't. You don't belong here, you don't have a life here; but _she_ does, this is _her_ home and you can't take it from her. I know you. You can't do it.'

Tears crawled down her cheeks. 'I'll never see you again.'

She was an EarthForce officer and I was just some gumshoe long time dead before she was even born; we'd never stood a chance. I smoothed the hair away from her face; it was a corny line but I said it anyway; I had nothing else to say. 'We'll always have Downbelow.'

She laughed through her tears; I took my last chance and I'll never forget the way her lips clung to mine. She tasted strong and bitter and like salt. I let her go.

'Here's looking at you, kid.'

I think she smiled again but it was hard to tell; one second she was there and the next she had already gone. It was over.

_TBC_


	18. Epilogue: Blue Skies

**ooOoo**

**Epilogue: Blue Skies**

**ooOoo**

Like most things in my life, it wasn't all wrapped up that neatly. Susan came to and started demanding to know the who, what, why, where and how. Which I guess you couldn't really blame her for. John managed to pacify her by promising to tell her everything, so long as she kept Ivanov Mr and Mrs off his back. She agreed and by the time Della came back with two voluble Russians in tow, Susan was ready to sell them some shtick about it all being a misunderstanding and something in the nature of a joke gone wrong or what have you. I hung around making up the numbers because I had to but I got the hell out of Dodge just as soon as I was able.

I wandered around for a bit until I decided that what I needed more than anything else was a drink – a long one that I could crawl into and not come back out of. The Babylon probably wasn't the best choice but my feet had taken me there and I didn't feel like arguing; I hauled myself onto a stool, ordered me a Scotch and made like one of Hopper's nighthawks. Lon was in a philosophical mood that night. He polished his glasses, rearranged his bottles, made eyes at Adira and watched me with what I guess he thought was a surreptitious eye. When he ambled over to retrieve one of my empty glasses he said, 'Mr Garibaldi...'

I raised my head and peered at him. 'Uh-huh?'

'Whatever it is – it can't be that bad.' He looked so earnest I managed a grin just to make him feel better.

'Yeah, maybe not. In the meantime, do me a favour and build me another.'

'Better make that three.'

Two grey paws landed on my knee, along with a grey head. The voice hadn't come from the hound; it had come from my partner, John J. Sheridan, who dragged his carcass onto the stool next to me. Della was with him, looking like a fashion-plate, and took the stool on my other side. I was flanked by Sheridans, which was either great or lousy depending on how you took it.

'What are you two doing here?'

Della put her arm around my shoulders. 'John thought you'd be drowning your sorrows, so we both thought we'd come and help; we'll get you good and drunk and then take you home. You're staying with us for a few days.'

I was stricken. 'Oh God – it's not that bad.'

'Don't be silly. Drink your Scotch.'

'Y'know,' I said to John, 'she was so sweet and quiet until she married you. How do you do that to dames?'

'Mike!' Her grey peepers were wide.

'Sorry – I meant to say "dolls".'

'That's all right then.'

She still had her arm around my shoulders and I could get a good whiff of her perfume - a warm smell the colour of old gold and I let myself get wrapped in it. On the other side of me John put one hand on my shoulder and left it there to mind its own business. In the mirror that ran the length of the bar I could see the three of us reflected, distorted through the glass shelves and bottles. I sighed. Della put her hand on my arm, just above the wrist and squeezed it.

'Nuts. I'm gonna be stuck with you two for God knows how many lifetimes, aren't I?' I could feel them moving. 'Okay, if you're gonna hold hands will you do me a favour and not do it across my back?'

They rolled their eyes at each other and let go.

Lon came back with another round of drinks and lined them up in front of us - nice generous measures you could get lost in. He even brought a bowl of water for the hound, just so he wouldn't feel left out.

'I guess we don't end up too bad,' I said.

'No, I think we do okay,' John agreed.

'Yeah, I mean you're still the same big damn hero you always are.' I glanced at Della: 'You end up looking like someone crowned you Miss America; and me? I'm chief of security. I think that's pretty good. And here's to the girl who made seeing it all possible - Susan Ivanova.'

I raised my glass and the other two joined in.

'Susan Ivanova.'

We drank, to the future and the past.

ooOoo

When Susan opened her eyes she found Draal watching her carefully; he looked concerned, she thought, and wondered just how much he had seen of what had happened. Her stomach tied itself in knots; it had not been her finest moment, what she had come so close to doing... She released herself from the Machine, scrubbing at her cheeks and pasting on a smile as Draal took a firm hold of her hand to help her down.

'Worked perfectly,' she said, not meeting his eyes as they switched places. 'Everybody got home, and we're all safe.'

'Indeed.'

The old Minbari eased himself back into the niche that had become his home, his body resting into place with a feeling of satisfaction. He let out a contended sigh as his eyes drifted closed. His projection appeared moments later, a couple of feet from Susan. She was too pale, her smile too forced; there had been a struggle in those moments after their visitors had left, something so strong that for a moment he had believed that she would be lost.

'Are you sure you are all right, Commander?'

'I'm fine.' Her chin was held high.

Draal sighed. 'Even so, I would suggest that you do not return to the Machine again - not for a while.'

Susan managed a strained smile. 'I won't be volunteering, Draal. Then again, I almost never do - I try to make that a policy; doesn't always work, though. Thanks again for the use of the hall.'

He looked at her quizzically. 'That sounded like something Mike Garibaldi would say.'

Susan was still for a moment. 'It did, didn't it?' She walked quickly, across the chamber, down the causeway, and on to the bay housing the flyer.

The docking bay on board the station had resumed its usual air of barely-controlled chaos: the hum of machinery, shouts, monotonous instructions from the comm. panels. A familiar figure was striding through and made its way towards her; Susan looked at Sheridan.

'Were you lurking here this whole time?'

'I just wanted to make sure that everything went okay.'

'Yeah, fine; everyone's back where they belong.'

He looked at her keenly. 'Right... Look, Susan, if there's anything you want to talk about later, you know I'm here.'

She raised her eyebrows at him. 'What? Don't you have enough problems as it is?'

'Is there a problem?'

'No! No, uh... It's fine. I'm fine.'

'Okay.' Sheridan watched her for a moment longer then reached out to take hold of her arm; he squeezed it gently. 'I'll see you later.'

'Sure.'

All the way to C&C, Susan kept hearing the laughter and repartee that had come along with their unexpected visitors. She wondered when it would fade from the rooms and corridors of the station, or if it ever would.

Pausing a moment at the entrance to her usual workplace, she put back her shoulders.

_'You run this place, don't you? All kidding aside, that's amazing. You're amazing.'_

He had meant it: his eyes on her face had been sincere, warm. And she had felt something she hadn't thought she was capable of feeling anymore. Susan didn't want to think about what had happened after that. It was in the past … truly in the past. Stepping onto the bridge, she saw the normal hum and activity of her crew and took a moment to feel some pride in herself. Someone thought she was an amazing woman. There was comfort in that.

She drew a deep breath. 'Well,' she said, 'I'm back.'

_The End_


End file.
